


Revelations (Tumblr Prompt fill)

by Gotchayoulildirtbag



Category: Castle
Genre: Castle hides hearing loss, Hearing loss discovered, How it plays out, Pre-relationship Castle/Beckett, Setting the scene for future Castle/Beckett relationship, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gotchayoulildirtbag/pseuds/Gotchayoulildirtbag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hi everyone. My first go at a Prompt. This one was put up a while ago, about Castle having somehow been able to hide the fact that he is deaf (partially in my fic) from anyone outside his family, but it suddenly all comes out when a bust goes wrong. My fic is in multiple parts now!  I hope it works.Any input from readers would be appreciated.</p><p>Please R&R. Hope you like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Revelations - part one.

 

Consciousness, when it returned, was slow. He felt himself, like an ink drop slowly blooming through a cup of water, gradually expanding back across his own mind, his body, until he was once more Rick. More or less. And with that return to awareness he could feel every cell weighted down with a spreading, melting sort of fatigue that he hadn't experienced since those endless nights with Alexis feverishly cutting teeth, followed by long long days of Gina and her never ending string of imminent deadlines. Even his eyelids were too much of a burden to lift. So he lay there against his pillow, stuporous with exhaustion and waited to fall back asleep.

Mother would wake him if Alexis started fretting again.

He suddenly fancied he could hear his daughter burble against his side, her words a lovely little blurry trickle of bells cascading and tumbling happily against his skin. He felt his chest tighten with feeling. A smile pushed at his lips.

"Pum-kin..."

He drifted again...

Voices.

Beckett. She was nearby, talking seriously, earnestly and straight with someone. He didn't open his eyes, but listened with all of his attention enjoying the feeling, that small thrilled glow, that ignited whenever she was nearby. He could clearly remember when that spark of closeness shifted from being purely carnal to something more. It was a day, same as any other, as he barreled into the 12th with a coffee that wasn't his and saw her already at her desk leaning over an open file folder. There was nothing different about the way they traded a witticism as he thunked her coffee lightly on to the same ring stained spot that he always did, nor how he slid home into the chair he had taken as his months ago, and swung it onto just the right angle so that he could see all of her face and wouldn't miss a word. But then it just happened. Just like that. In that one moment everything tumbling and clicking into place like the last twists on a rubik's cube. All his colours just slid home and everything changed. Everything. From that moment, he was enthralled. She wasn't his muse, she was just... his. Just like that.

But now, he floated away again listening, listening.

When he woke next, people were talking nearby. Women people. The soft timbre of their speech added an interesting layer to the inertia he was still stuck in, but he felt more focused this time, and automatically started searching for familiar patterns to decipher what they were saying. No matter how hard he tried though, the sounds slithered and slipped formlessly through the grasping fingers of his mind and the strain of the effort grew a piercing ache in his temples. He recoiled from the exertion and tried to melt back into his pillow. Too late, too late. The pain in his head, pricked the passive bubble he was floating in and a sudden new rush of awareness flooded in. A sharper, more penetrating, more demanding intrusion of consciousness this time. And with it: pain.  
Pain in his head, cheek, eye, ribs and right arm. Pain that was throbbing and steady, dull and sharp. And thirst. Thirst. And more. A vaguely familiar and ominously astringent chemical smell. And unwanted cold and cramping confinement along each limb. This was not home. This was not his bed.

Not his bed!

With a sharp inhalation, he was awake. His previously heavy eyelids, flicked open with a snap. Not his room. Not his bed. He sleep on an elevation. He didn't have to be crammed into his own bed with his knees making hills in a too thin white cotton blanket, just to fit onto the mattress. So, not his bed. No. He looked down. That too cold blanket reached his waist, but above it there was white cotton shirt across his chest. Tight shirt. No. Wait. A band of painful pressure across his ribs, under the shirt. Bandages? His left arm was pressing against the cold metal rails along one side of the bed, the other arm bound down with something. More Bandages? Bloody knuckles on each hand. Lip, cheekbone, ear all throbbing with a taut swollen pain. Headache. And that smell...

Oh.

OK. Got it now.

Hospital.

Oh, hospital. Oh. And he remembered it all with a rubber band snap and a wince. The raid. The stink of weed. So much weed. His head had been swimming with it. Then the very very big guy, with fists like a gorilla, sneaking up on Beckett. The fight. Winning the fight. Maybe. No, he did win it, he was sure. Yeah, he must have. Ryan and Espo had given him the thumbs up from across the room so he must have won. Then... Then... Nothing. He frowned, thinking, but nothing more came to mind.

Voices interrupted his train of thought. The women. And oh, not just any women, but his mother and Kate Beckett. Deep in conversation with their backs to him. Beckett, his eyes lingered, was still wearing the brown leather jacket and simple elastic hair tie she had been wearing at the time of the raid. There was dust on her shoulders and right arm. An old spiderweb was tangled in her hair. And his mother was wearing one of his rain jackets that he kept by the door - the one she was always telling him to send to the dump before a family of rats moved into it. He pursed his lips. So a hasty exit from the loft to the hospital, and Kate had not been back to the precinct long enough to pick the remnants of the bust from her clothes and hair. He smiled. Well, enough waiting, it was time to alert them that the hero of the hour was awake and thirsty enough to drain a street hydrant, but then he heard his mother's distinctive inflection give voice to that which usually heralded her final argument-ending proclamation: "Men!" The intonation was unmistakable despite the fact that she had her back to him. Uh oh. He glanced at Beckett, but the detective still had her face turned away and he couldn't pick up enough of her murmur to put the pieces together. One thing he did know though, was that the 'hero of the hour' was going to get a chewing out before the parade. If only Beckett would turn just a bit more to the right he could find out what she was saying and...

Oh no.

Oh no. It suddenly made sense. Oh no. He raised his uninjured arm and touched his fingertips to his ear, though really it was unnecessary to check. But then it was too late. They had realised he was awake. He felt the bed dip and wobble and familiar fingers curled their tips under his chin, pressing in until he lifted his head. He dropped his hand to his lap.

"Richard, oh Richard!" His mother's drawn face was close to his. Her pale unmade lips forming the words with a subtle telling tremor. "How are you feeling darling? Does anything hurt? Do you need the doctor?"  
"I'm ok mother." His throat felt pinched and stripped of all moisture. His head was throbbing. "I'm fine." He risked a glance to the foot of the bed, not quite yet daring to lift his gaze to make eye contact. And there was his detective. He stared at her sky blue shirt, dusty and smeared with something gritty, as it tucked in to the waistband of her jeans, near the police badge clipped into her belt, and then the pearly buttons rising up the centre line of her body, rising and falling over prose inspiring contours. He couldn't help what happened next. His eyes continued travelling upwards and he sneaked a glance at her face. Gorgeous, high cheekbones, incredible eyes... Um, ok tight - suspect-to-be-interviewed eyes, and -

His mother hit him.

"Ow!" He yelped and looked back at his mother.

"Richard! What were you thinking? You could have been killed!" She thrust something into his free hand and he looked down at the two small skin coloured hearing aids in his palm. He jerked his fingers closed around them. Heat flicked at his throat and cheeks. He didn't dare move his eyes from his mother. "The doctor found one and the medics found the other at the house where you were with the police."

"Mom-" He admonished, suddenly equal parts rattled and guilty. His eyes involuntarily whipped towards Beckett and back. He moved too fast to get any clue as to what Beckett was thinking, but he didn't think he needed much data to make a pretty good guess.

"Oh, she knows Richard." He opened his mouth to, what?, protest? but his mother was on a roll, and showed him her palms. He was too mortified now to move. "Why didn't you tell her? Richard. No, no, don't start. I already know. Men!" She closed her eyes for the protracted moment it took for her to take a long long calming inhalation. She exhaled. "I am going to get the doctor back in here." She pushed up from the bed. "I suggest you take that time to explain and then apologise to Detective Beckett. You owe her that much. Richard - " the rest of that sentence was lost to him in a frustrated, shaken sigh. His mother left the room.

The silence that followed wasn't only physical. His mind was racing, everywhere, anywhere, nowhere. Something like panic added to the pain in his ribs, his breath felt hot in this throat. The hard plastic shell of the aids in his hand burned like hot coals. He was so consumed with the horror of it all that he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Her hand. Hers. And then a blessed cup of water under his nose. He heard her say something, but couldn't make it out. Instead he drained the cup, grateful not just for the water, but the moment to try to compose himself.

"Thanks." He huffed once it was empty, and let her take it from him. This time he raised his eyes to follow her as she refilled the cup from the jug at the table side. How the hell did she make such a simple act look so graceful? Oh fuck. He squeezed his eyes closed for an intense second as the magnitude of this screw up slid home in one violent rush. He was finished with the 12th. Finished with Beckett. And someone was damn sure going to leak it to the press. The medical staff, the medics, someone on the force. Someone. All the years of care and deal making to keep it out of public record, trying to keep it about the writing.

She put the refilled cup back in his hand. He looked up at her, standing there. Yes. He owed her. Big time. He licked his lower lip.

"I-" He started. She waited, patient and in-control calm. He was all at once grateful and infuriated and scared out of his mind that she seemed to be granting him the space to get the words out, but it wasn't going to be without cost. She wasn't going to be giving him a free pass. This was going to cost. It was going to hurt. "I owe you an apology." She raised her eyebrows at him as she sat down on the plastic chair by the bedside, never breaking eye contact. His gaze darted between her lips and eyes.

"Yes, you do." She said with slow deliberation. "With holding that sort of information was dangerous Castle. Not just for you, but for all of us. We only work as a team if we know each other, if we are honest with each other. What happened in that house-" She paused and he could see the memory was still barbed. He felt himself die a bit more inside. "You were just lucky you weren't killed."  
Hang on - "No, but I got him. That guy that was coming up behind you. The King Kong-godzilla lovechild - "

"Castle." She interrupted him. Clearly there was more to the story than he recalled. "There was more than one. You- Castle there was more than one of them. Yes, you somehow got on top of the first guy, but the other one.. You didn't even know he was there. Your hearing aides were knocked out during the fight. Espo and Ryan tried to warn you about the other guy, but you couldn't hear them Castle. It was just plain dumb luck that the bullet went wide and Ryan was able to take him down."

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'." She pursed her lips, thinking, considering. "There was no way I could get there in time. And if Ryan hadn't been quick enough, I wouldn't be here talking to you I would be at the loft right now explaining to your mother and daughter that their son and father would not be coming home." He had nothing to say to that. Nor anything to sooth the tightly held distress he could clearly see flickering in her eyes, in the strained lines around her mouth. God, he had totally screwed up. And Ryan had had to kill someone that maybe he may not otherwise have had to shoot. God. Right now, he would sell his soul to the devil to go back and slap that wise ass grinning idiot who had blithely ticked the 'nothing to declare' box on the Existing Medical Condition section of the NYPD consent and waiver forms.

"I didn't," He cleared his throat. "I didn't think about that."

"No. You didn't." She worked that silence again and his gaze slid down to the water in his hand. Faint waves distorted the surface. Her heard her voice, the soft sounds slid like a balm against his damaged ears. The guilt suddenly felt unbearable. But she spoke again and he knew he had to take whatever was coming next. He owed her that. He owed his mother. He owed Alexis. So he looked back.

"I'm sorry." He managed. His voice sounded like gravel in his own ears. "I am so so sorry Kate. I was stupid. I didn't want anyone to know. No one has ever had to know before, and I just, I - I didn't want anyone at the 12th to know, the guys, you. I - I didn't want you to know. It was a stupid, stupid badly thought out decision.

"And, I do know what's coming next. I do. I deserve it. Could you tell the guys, Lanie, that I'm sorry. That I never meant for anyone to get hurt-"

"Castle. Stop!" Beckett interrupted him and he shut up. For the first time, for the last time maybe, he shut up like he should. She went on more gently than he deserved. "Just stop. There is a lot to talk about, a lot that is going to have to be dealt with, but right now Martha is coming back here with the doctor and Alexis is on her way to the hospital. And you have to rest." He watched her rise from the chair, took in that elegant economy of movement, the long slender lines and beautiful face. He tried to soak it in, tried to force an imprint of it into his mind, suspecting it would be the last time he would see it.

He nodded. And as if that was a cue, his mother sailed back in to the room towing a tall blond man sporting a stethoscope in her wake. It was all meaningless noise then. All background blather and rattling bed rails and the hell with the lot of it. He let it all go, let it all swirl around him, and instead watched Kate Beckett walk out the door.

End, part 1.


	2. Chapter 2

OK so things are getting a bit involved and I might be adding a few more chapters on to this story. Not sure what happened there... Hope you don't mind!

Also a huge thank you to everyone who has read this fic. Its made my day(s). And its better than just about anything for keeping up the writing motivation!

Chapter 2

Kate was lost in thought, wrestling with the shock and the enormity of what the morning had exposed, and waiting by the elevator door near Castle's room, when a hand suddenly grasped her forearm. She almost jumped to the ceiling. Without thinking her hand dropped to her service weapon.

"Oh, I'm sorry Katherine. I didn't mean to scare you." Martha apologised. She released her grip like Kate was on fire, and slid the offending hand out of sight into her coat pocket. Castle's filthy old rain coat: it was huge on his mother. It rucked up over her forearms in billowing folds, ballooning out where it pressed up against the pockets where Martha had both her hands now hidden. It made the other woman look vulnerable and tiny, though she was hardly a head shorter than Kate herself, and the illusion drove home how badly the situation may have turned out. Castle had been so lucky not to have been killed, to have left his mother and daughter mourning and alone in a huge unkind world.

"That's ok Martha." Kate said. Then she glanced back down the hall towards Castle's room, eyes widening, suddenly wondering why the woman had left her son. "Is something wrong with -?"

"What? Oh, no. No. The doctor is seeing to Richard. Seems they need privacy, even from his own mother. Anyway, darling, that's not why I followed you." Kate waited while Martha took a deep breath before plunging on. "Look, I know that Richard has made a terrible mistake in not being completely honest with you or your colleagues about his," She paused to look around the temporarily vacant hallway, then dropped to a whisper for her next word, "hearing. Sorry, old habits. We have had to be careful for so long, to keep it out of the press you see." She paused again. "I also know you have to do what you have to do, but please don't be too hard on him. These last months, working with you, have been the making of him. They really have. Oh don't get me wrong, he's been a wonderful father to Alexis, and though I do tease him, he has been good son. A good man. But, since he has been following you all around he's been, well, a different person. More focussed; more settled; more happy, than I have seen him in a long time."

Kate stared at her for a long moment. She was lost for words. Martha seized her arm again.

"I am not asking you to go against your better judgement Katherine, but please, if -."

"Martha, I can't hide -"

"No, no. I am not asking you to hide this from your colleagues. I know you have do what you have to do. But," and she sighed, this time with a theatrical flourish that was curiously self-depreciating and softened with feeling. "I am his mother and, for whatever that has been worth, I do love him and it is so important to him that this does not become widely known." And that he isn't hurt more than necessary, Kate read the unspoken subtext.

"Whatever happens, no one on my watch will be passing on any details about what has been," she said softly, and checked the corridor," revealed, to anyone. And no one is looking to make things worse than they have to be. Honestly, I don't know what Captain Montgomery is going to decide, but whatever the outcome, you have my word that it will be dealt with in the most discrete manner possible."

"Thank you." Martha smiled and there was kindness in it. And relief. And concern. And not just for Castle. There was more to this woman than met the eye, Kate decided. There was more to this entire story than met the eye too. It was one of the very few things that Kate would admit she shared with Castle, but where there was a mystery her curiosity, like his, was almost overwhelming. Martha suddenly let out an exasperated exhalation. "Oh where is this elevator? Honestly, I am sure we all waste years waiting for elevators. Ah, here it is."

"Where you going?" Kate asked.

"Oh, Richard has quite thoroughly destroyed his," she glanced around the corridor again, out of habit Kate now realised," you-know-whats. I told him I was going to fetch his other pair from the loft. And since I have been ejected from my son's room, now seemed like a good time to go."

"Let me drive you."

"Oh, no, I couldn't impose-"

"It's no imposition. Besides, I have some questions. Things I am going to need to know when I see my Captain."

CastleCastleCastleCastle

The drive to back to the Castle's loft was filled with slow moving traffic, but for once Kate was not particularly wanting to hurry. Beside her, Martha had shed Castle's coat and it was folded over in her lap.

"So, um, if you don't mind me asking, when did Cas- Rick lose his hearing? He wasn't born with it was he."

"You are right he wasn't. But oh, it was a long time ago now. He was ten." Martha's expression shadowed suddenly with memory. "It was terrible. Just terrible. It was a bad winter and Richard and two of his classmates contracted meningitis. Oh he was so ill Katherine. For a while the doctors-" She broke off suddenly. Covered for her slip with a small cough, and then ploughed on. "Well. It was a long time ago. But, it left him, us, with a lasting gift."

"I am so sorry Martha. I had no idea. How- how bad is it?" She asked. "Honestly, I had no idea. He doesn't seem to miss a moment of what is going on."

"I know. But that's Richard for you." She smiled, then sobered. "The doctors told us it was relatively mild and mostly to the higher frequencies, but it was within the range for needing some assistance. Ala: the hearing aids. Oh he's spent a small fortune on finding the smallest, least obtrusive kind , those ones that sit right inside the ear, but to be honest with you I am very surprised he was wearing them at all."

"Why wouldn't he be wearing them?"

"Oh, Katherine. Oh my dear. That first year after he was ill, he wouldn't wear them. The poor boy. He was so depressed. He just wouldn't wear them. He wouldn't co-operate with the doctors. And after a while he just started to withdraw. He wouldn't go to school. I didn't know what to do. We even tried seeing a psychologist, but that went nowhere." That didn't sound like her partner at all. Trying to relate what she was hearing with the happy, extroverted, fun-loving, ever curious Rick Castle was just impossible. That this had ever happened to him, that he ever became such an unhappy suffering child, even temporarily, made her feel ill. And she hadn't picked up any hint of it at all. Not one. Everything she thought she knew about that man was being turned on its head.

"But, something changed? What happened?" She prompted.

"To be honest I don't know what happened." Martha went on. "I was just so - I don't know. I was grasping at straws and one of Richard's school friends over in New Hampshire asked if he could come and stay for a few days. I sent him even though he didn't want to go and when he came back he was, he was different."

"Different how?"

"Well, after that long weekend he started wearing his hearing aids, he started co-operating with the doctors, the therapists. He started writing. He started reading Sherlock Holmes and drove me crazy trying to, what's that word, deduce what I had been doing all day just by observing me as I came in the door. He would try to fool me into thinking that his hearing had returned sometimes and I can tell you, after a few months of all this deducing, it was hard to believe it hadn't. He certainly fooled most people we met. And then he stopped wearing his aids again." He was still doing that too: observing, deducing, fooling the world. Only now he was making money out of it. And making the world think he was what he wasn't. That he was whole and hearty and a force to be reckoned with.

"He never told you want happened that weekend?"

"Oh, I asked, but he would just smile like he still does and change the subject. I guess running about in the woods really is as good a therapy as they say it is." She smiled and Kate returned it. "He's going to miss this you know."

"What?"

"This. Riding around in police cars. Solving crimes. You."

"Oh, I- Martha, it's not necessarily going to come to that, -" Beckett stumbled over her words, thrown. A blush was creeping up her throat, colouring her cheeks.

"But it will." Martha went on. "I know that Richard has his connections, but even the Mayor can't smooth over some things. Richard should have told you, but he's just so stubborn."

"He is that." Beckett murmured. For the rest of the short distance to the Castle home her mind was in a whirl. The anger, the sense of betrayal, that he had hidden something like this from her; something that had put himself in danger and had, by potential association, put her team at risk, had faded into the background. There was going to be fall out. Montgomery and her team had to know. To provide anything less than full disclosure to her team would be its own sort of betrayal. But now, hearing from Martha just what Castle had gone through, how hard he had tried to overcome what had happened to him, the pathway forward had just gotten a lot less clear. To be honest, the last thing she wanted to do was add to his burden. An image of him just now at the hospital miserable, hurting and jammed into that too small hospital gurney, holding the tattered remains of his dignity in the palm of one hand, came to her in a sudden charged rush. And the sudden urge to protect him that followed was equally unexpected and shocking.

She needed to talk it out with someone. Someone not yet involved in this morning's raid, someone who would be discreet and listen for friend in need. Someone who would understand, but tell it to her straight. After letting Martha out of the car, and finding a place to wait for her, Beckett pulled out her cell and thumbed in a number.

"Hey Lanie. I have to drop Castle's Mom into the hospital and go by the 12th to check in with Ryan and Espo on the Baxter case, but... after that... Are you free for lunch?"

CastleCastleCastleCastle

"Yo Beckett. How's Castle?" Esposito called out to Kate strode into the Bullpen and headed for her desk. The detective was standing with his partner near her murder board. Both men had files in their hands. "Dude took a pounding this morning."

"He's a bit banged up, but he'll be fine." She said. She poked at the inbox on her desk as cover to steal a glance at Montgomery's office. It was still empty. The relief that he hadn't returned from his meeting with the Mayor unexpectedly early, that she would not have to speak to him just yet, was almost physical. She felt instantly lighter, instantly more in the moment. "The doctors say they will release him tomorrow."

"Good to hear." Ryan nodded, looking genuinely happy to hear the news, but Kate didn't miss the pointed glance Ryan sent to Javi, nor Javi's emphatic head jerk back to get on with what was coming next. Kate felt her heart begin to drop. Ryan clutched at his folder. "Um, yeah, about that..."

"So how are we on the murder weapon?" She cut in, looking at the board, the array of photographs, scrawled hand writing and sticky notes were suddenly fascinating. She had hoped that neither of her colleagues had realised what had happened with Castle this morning, but there had been too many opportunities for them, between her partner's failure to react to their calls for him to watch out and then the medic finding that hearing aid, that it was not surprising that they had overheard or even seen too much not to know what was going on. Oh god, she did not want to have this conversation before seeing Montgomery. The chances were good that the Captain was going to pull the plug on Castle's attachment to the 12th, to them, to her, and if he did then the only action left was to request that the real reason for his severance was kept from public knowledge. Though Ryan and Javi were hardly 'public', she knew that Castle would rather they thought he had left of his own accord.

"Boss." Ryan would not be diverted. "About the bust. Castle -"

"What about him? He's going to be fine. He's loving that he took down a perp during a police raid and is probably going to be living off that story for the next year-"

"I don't think so." Javi put in, clearly agitated at Ryan's indirect approach. He shot a reproachful glare at his partner. Kate bristled, but Javi barrelled right on. "Look, what my partner is trying to say is that if Castle's gonna keep on riding with us, if he's gonna keep on stepping up like he did today, then he's got to get some training." Kate stared, stunned. Javi took a deep breath, and took on a faintly embarrassed look. He stepped closer. Glanced quickly around the bullpen and got conspiratorial. "OK, so, I'm only going to say this once and I will deny it if questioned in the future, but writer boy really stepped up today. He had your back. And, and ok, he's got some power there and good hands. But if he's gonna be part of the team, and not get himself killed, he has to get some training. You know, some hand to hand. Heart's only going to get him so far. And, so," Javi stepped back and thumbed his chest and Ryan's, "we figure that with a few mornings a week in the squad gym we can get him sorted out."

"We promise not to start on him until he's given the all clear by the docs." Ryan chipped in when Kate didn't respond. Clearly he had misinterpreted her silence as disapproval. She scrambled inside to get herself back together, blinked, and nodded. Somehow, seeing how they considered Castle such a part of their team, was making things so much worse.

"All right." Javi nodded, grinning. "We'll go easy on him until the doc says he's ok. But after that," Javi brought his fist and open hand together, his grin all teeth, "he's all ours."

She had to see Lanie. Now.

End Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
By the time his mother returned to his hospital room, Rick was feeling more awake but wishing he wasn't. Everything hurt. And if didn't hurt it was either itching or feeling cramped from being stuck in this damn bed. The doctor his mother had dragged into his room had been cool and impersonal in checking him over, which had been very welcome at the time. And he had a very precise way of speaking and enunciating which made it easy to follow as the medico rattled off the list of awesomely impressive sounding injuries as he completed his exam. Or it would have been awesomely impressive, if Rick could undo the last 12 hours, and if he could forget the all-business, too-calm way that Beckett had voiced her displeasure. She was only that calm when she was really truly angry and she had every right to be, he knew, but that didn't make it any easier to take. So he listened without his usual delight as the physician told him that he had a number of lacerations and contusions (note: awesome words) affecting both hands where they had slammed into the giant he had tackled, and one hairline fracture of a metacarpal bone in his right hand (notes: boxer's fracture; and apparently he had slept through several exciting scans and x-rays) which explained the splinting; a dramatic explosion of bruising all along the left side of his face (notes: assailant right handed; fists the size of hubcaps); more bruising to the central left side of his rib cage (notes: the tight sensation had been discomfort under pain killers that were no longer doing their job); and a concussion (notes: grade 2 concussion; headache, missing time and confusion with no loss of consciousness; not so awesome). The concussion was not considered particularly alarming, but because he had been unable to tell them his name or what had happened to him when the ambulance had arrived, the usual precautionary actions applied and they were keeping him in overnight.  
"Was that clear Mr Castle? Do you need me to write it down or explain again?" The doctor asked, giving him a pointed look. It was the kind of too-meaningful gaze that Rick hadn't had to suffer for years prior to this travesty of a day and he pursed his lips to stop himself saying anything he would later regret. Age did bring some measure of control.  
"No. Its fine." He said.  
"All right. The nurse will be a long shortly to give you something for the pain. The buzzer is beside you should you need anything. Please do use it. Ok?"

"Fine."  
The doctor left and he was alone.  
He stared at the ceiling. The tired off-white cork panels, with their pitted moonscape surfaces, looked about as flat and worn out as he felt. He let his gaze wander. It was hard to fathom just how fast his life had just unravelled. In the predawn hours this morning, when everything was still as it should have been, he had suddenly had an epiphany about the Baxter case. The pieces had suddenly clicked into place and he knew, he just knew, where the murder weapon was stashed. Rolling on a high wave he had forgone breakfast, phoned ahead for his and Beckett's coffee which he collected almost at a dead run, yelling out his apologies to those still waiting in the queue, as he raced through the coffee stand; he bounded into the elevator, and jiggled on his toes as it creaked too slow, too slow upward; and burst into the bullpen with a matador's flourish to take Beckett and anyone else within shouting distance blow-by-blow through his inspirational deduction. And Beckett had risen from her chair as he wove his narrative, walking them through his leaps and observations, until she took the stage along with her coffee and took over, making the same connections to race them across the finish line. It was like poetry. Like ballet. It was like.... Like... Nothing he had ever experienced before joining the 12th. She was amazing. They were amazing.  
And her eyes were amazing.  
Piercing hazel eyes, broadcasting a fierce and fearless intelligence. Eyes that, for that moment this morning, held his locked in both in a shared moment of guileless delight and in the sharing of that moment with another mind. For just that moment, before Lanie said something that broke it and brought a soft red tint to Beckett's face, it was the pure joy of connection with a like soul. He would never get over the shock of it, the intensity of that fleeting link. Never. And now. Now. He drew in a slow breath, ribs hitching on the pain that flared across his chest. And now it was all gone. He'd blown it.  
"Dad!" And the room was abruptly filled with two red heads and one blond. The one who had yelped his name from across the room, unmistakable in its volume, took his entire attention and he reached out for her as she all but fell onto his right side and grabbed him round the neck. The pain that shot through him at the collision was barely a consideration as he reached around to hug his daughter close. He felt her breath hot against his skin and her voice muffled there was tense and strained.  
"Oof! Pumpkin. I'm ok. I'm ok." Then the pain began to escalate. "OK. Ow. Ow, ow, not ok, not ok - " 

"Oh, sorry. Dad. Sorry." Alexis, pulled back from her crushing embrace and hovered above him. Her normally pale skin looked almost porcelain with worry as her gaze roved over his face, lingering over the bruising. Her hands fluttered above his arm, wanting to touch him, but not wanting to add to the hurt. He reached across his body to take her hand in his unbroken one, and give it a reassuring squeeze. "Oh my god Dad! What happened?"  
"It's ok." He forced a smile and did his best not to wince. "It looks much worse than it is. You should see the other guy!"  
A hand suddenly grabbed his knee and he looked up at a blond woman who should definitely not be there: "You got into a fight?" Gina asked, raising a manicured eyebrow in disbelief. "What with, a truck?" Then Gina disappeared behind another red head in a confusing rush of movement that made his aching head spin.  
"I'm sorry Richard, I tried to stop her." Martha said curtly. "Here you are." She proffered one of the hated objects and Rick had to let go of Alexis to take it and get it positioned in one ear. Then the next in the other. He scowled as he adjust the volume and came in part way through Gina's response.  
"- tried to explain, Martha, I am not here to pester you son. I am here because I am getting calls." She met Rick's gaze and he knew; he knew why she was here. He gritted his teeth. "It's out Rick. It's out. Someone has talked to the media and now I am getting calls." He didn't need to ask what 'it' was.  
"What have you told them?"  
"I confirmed that you were in the hospital, but nothing else. You know I wouldn't do that without consulting with you first Rick." She looked hurt through the professional veneer. "We should have come out with it ourselves years ago. I told you. After the success of Storm it was the right-"  
"There was no need for anyone to know then. There still isn't." Rick interrupted, and Gina glared. Gina was PR down to her very soul. She was damn good at the job too, but she was all about the sell all the time. When she had first found out about his hearing she had been all over him to tell the world. They had argued. A lot. He would sell more, he would have more interviews, more press in general if she could craft some rising-above story to sell the talk show hosts and sympathetic fans, she had contended. If it was all about the money, the fame, it would have been a no brainer argument, but it wasn't. It was about the writing. It was about the story. In the end he had laid it out for her: this was the deal breaker. If she told anyone every part of their relationship, the personal and the professional, was over. She gave in. He was too much of an earner as he was in the end, he supposed. But now all that was over and she was right. They had to act and act fast to own the story, and before anyone else, before Robert and Captain Montgomery, before the guys at the precinct, before everyone in his life found out that he had lied to them.  
"Handle it." He said. Gina nodded and there was a pleased look in her eye. "I don't want anyone approaching my daughter or my mother about it Gina. No one."  
"I don't know if I will be able to stop that Rick. But I will try." His agent was already pulling her cell from her pocket, already thumbing the keypad as she left the room.

"Dad." Alexis drew his attention back to her. "Don't worry about me or Gran. We can handle ourselves. And you need to get better."  
"She's right, Richard. What's done is done and Gina is very capable." She looked at him, her face in firm lines. "You knew this day was coming, and so did Gina. We all did."  
"I was kinda wishing it wouldn't." It was a childish thing to say and he knew it, but he was nothing if not petulant in the face of an I-told-you-so. This day had been coming. He had been foolish to carry on as if it wouldn't. And now it was out, and because of it Ryan had maybe had to kill a man he otherwise wouldn't have, and he had scared his family, worried and angered Beckett, and now he could look forward to having to explain himself to Captain Montgomery and Bob. Oh god, how was he going to explain it to Bob. His friend had placed his trust in him, and now he was going to find out that that trusted friend had lied to him and potentially given fodder to his political enemies. The legacy of his mayor-ship could be damaged. And it wouldn't matter that Rick was the one who had lied, not Bob. It wouldn't matter at all. Shit, he wished he had more time. Hell, he wished he had a time machine.  
"Kiddo if wishes were horses-" His mother interrupted his thoughts. But then she stopped suddenly and turned and he tracked the movement to the door of the room. "Ah, the nurse is here. Now you do what she says Richard.  
"I am going to take Alexis out for a meal. The poor girl has come straight from her classes and missed lunch." Rick looked at his daughter, feeling the guilt deepening with every passing second. "We'll be back in later."  
"No. Gran, I'll stay-"  
"No. It's all right." Rick picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Its fine pumpkin. Go. Eat." He tugged her closer, conspiratorially close. "Sneak me in a muffin."  
"Dad." She admonished, but there was a smile there now.  
"A chocolate one." He instructed, watching as his mother rolled her eyes and tugged Alexis out of the room. "With sprinkles!" He yelled and winced as his ribs and head protested. "Er, Hi." He looked at the nurse as she approached, two small cups in one hand. "I am sure the food here is fine, but-"

"You're daughter needed something to take her mind off her father looking like he's gone three rounds with a gorilla?" 

"Looks that bad does it?" He touched his face gingerly. The skin felt taut and hot where the Behemoth had punched him.

"I've seen worse." She smiled as she handed him the first cup. There were two pills in the bottom of it. The second cup was filled with water. "You're mother is right though: we nurses always know best. Just stay put and let yourself recover."

"Yes ma'am." He downed the pills and drank the water. He couldn't stay put though. That couldn't happen, not yet. So many people were about to be affected by his decision to hide himself from the world and he couldn't bear the thought of lying here while it happened. No. He couldn't do that. His thoughts, as they usually seemed to these days, strayed to Beckett and what she was about to do: reveal all to her Captain, her colleagues. Alone. No, that definitely couldn't happen.

So he watched as the nurse checked his vitals, and dutifully answered her questions, and when she had gone he threw back the covers and made his escape.

End of Chapter 3. We go to the 12th in the next part. Kate is dealing with the case in hand and looking to Lanie for counsel. And Rick is about to do something rash.  
 


	4. Chapter 4

“OK. So, what you are trying to say; what you have been trying to say for the last 10 minutes is that Richard Castle, our Richard Castle, is deaf?”

“Uh.”Beckett, stared at Lanie Parish over the corpse the Medical Examiner was hovering next to. “Uh, um. How did you-?”

“Girl, how many times do I have to say it: I can read you like a book. And when it comes to Castle, it’s always the same book.” She looked over the top of her safety glasses at Kate. Kate blinked back, and gripped the edge of the empty autopsy table she was sitting on.

“I have a book?”

“You have a book.” Lanie repeated still appearing very calm in the wake of what she had just worked out from Kate’s stuttered attempts to get some help from her friend without betraying Castle’s secret. Lanie was amazing. And evidently Kate needed a new poker face. “And as for Rick Castle being deaf: I am not buying that one. Is its April, because I am not getting fooled by something so -”

“Lanie, I am not playing April fool’s. He’s deaf. Well, not totally. A bit.”

“A bit? Isn't that like being a bit pregnant?"

“We raided a store house of Baxter’s this morning. It got a little ugly and Castle got into a fight with our suspect before he got the drop on me. It was bad Lanie. The guy was huge. And the medics, the hospital, they found his hearing aids.” Lanie stared at her, hard, and Kate found herself fidgeting. “And now, now I have to tell Captain Montgomery. There’s going to be fall out. And-”

“Woah, woah. Slow down. Back up.” Lanie waved her scalpel over the body in front of her. “Richard Castle is deaf? Since when?”

“Since he was a kid apparently, I met his mother at the hospital, but that isn’t the -”

“Hold on.” Lanie interrupted again. “Apparently? What do you mean apparently? Kate have you talked to him about this? You did talk to him about it, right?”

“Well, no, not exactly. Don’t look at me like that. I was mad. I was in shock. Lanie he was almost killed because he couldn’t hear Ryan and Espo warning him about the second guy.” Oh hell, she hadn’t talked to him about it. Or about anything. She’d gone in mad, warned him off and left.

“OK, so let me get this straight. Castle got into a fight, trying to protect you; he was injured enough to need medical attention and this bombshell blew up in his face; and then you got mad that he’d kept this secret from you, so you read him the riot act in his sick bed and left him at the hospital.”

“He lied to me Lanie-“

“And since when is that new? "Man edits life story to impress woman" wouldn’t sell any papers. It happens every day.”

“Not like this.” Kate was too caught up to make her usual rebuttal against the writer’s feelings for her. “He could have been killed.”

“And you get to kick his butt for that.” Lanie said. “Look, Kate, you’ve had a shock. Hell, I am only calm now because it hasn’t hit yet. And yeah, you have to tell the Captain. Javi, Ryan: they have to know too. But,” Lanie prompted.

“I have to talk to Castle.” She finished and Lanie nodded. “Ooh Lanie." Kate dropped her head into her hands. "I screwed up." 

"Yeah, but lucky for you, that man is crazy about you. He'd forgive you for just about anything. And the same goes for you." 

"Lanie!"

"What? I'm only saying what everyone else can see. The guy just got beat up trying to protect you. And you come down here, mad as hell that he might have been killed. Only one reason why you're down here talking to me, trying to find a way around this whole mess, and not up there making calls to the Captain to get writer boy cut out of your life."

The M.E. stared at her, challenging her to respond. Kate stared back, and - her phone suddenly rang. Oh thank god! She fished it from her pocket, looked at the screen and saw Ryan’s name flashing. She took a deep breath. Before coming down to see Lanie she had left Espo and Ryan to process Baxter, the guy that Castle had fought, as he was transferred from the hospital to the 12th for interview. The perp had come out of the fight much better than Castle had, but as Espo reported it: “only because he has a head like a block of concrete”. She licked her lips and pressed her ear to the cell. “Beckett.”

“Um, boss you need to get back here.”

“What’s going on?” She sat up suddenly at Ryan’s strained tone. Lanie’s eyes widened, watching Kate.

“Uh, it’s Castle. Here’s here.”

“What? He’s supposed to be in the hospital.” Kate jumped off the autopsy table and Lanie had to take a hasty step back. Kate barely registered her.   
“Yeah, well, if it means anything it looks like he still should be.” Ryan said. And then there was a crashing noise, and something that sounded like a loud protest.

“What was that?” She barked into the cell.

“Uh, just get up here.”

“On my way.” She thumbed the red icon and killed the call, bewildered. “Castle’s busted himself out of hospital. He’s upstairs.”

“I put that much together. Let me get my bag, I’m coming with.”

CastleCastleCastleCastleCastle

When Kate reached the bullpen, it seemed to be bustling around as usual, but there was something in the air that didn't feel right. She looked around, noting the repeated looks people kept flashing at the closed break room door. Then at her. Then back to the door again. It didn't take a genius to figure out why. Then Ryan suddenly appeared at her shoulder and indicated with a jerk of his chin.

“He’s in there.” He said. “We wanted to take him back to the hospital, but he’s insisting he won’t leave without seeing you first.” He gave a helpless half shrug and pushed the door open.

“Dude, don’t make me make you. Sit the fuck down!” Espo almost yelled as they entered the room. Castle was perched on a stool, splinted arm braced on the table, with Detective Esposito standing over him, arms crossed. Beckett took the opportunity to scan him head to do with a practiced eye for detail. And he looked like hell. Castle had evidently found his coat somewhere at the hospital, but otherwise he was wearing green scrubs and badly fitting white runners. And his face, spectacularly bruised and battered down the left side, was paler than she ever remembered seeing it. He looked like a wax model of himself. A sweating, utterly spent wax model. Restraining the sudden urge to go to him as easily as Lanie had, she met his gaze and found herself lost for words. She recognized that look and it hit her like a physical blow. It was the sort of battered stoicism that hollowed out the eyes of family members of victims of crime. The ones who knew that they had just lost everything, but were grimly determined to see it through to the end. Until justice was served. To see it in Castle's eyes threw her completely and she stalled to a halt inside the door.

She knew why he was here.

"Oh my god!" Lanie's eye was on the physical, as usual, and she immediately bustled passed Kate's shoulder to plant herself right in front of the writer. "Castle!" He turned to look at her. "What the hell were you thinking? Did you run all the way here? Hold still."

"Ow! Did you just pinch me?" He yelped as the M.E. clamped a patch of skin on the back of his hand between two fingers, and examined its reaction.

"Dehydrated." She muttered, ignoring him in favour of shining her torch in his eyes, feeling for a pulse on his unstrapped wrist. "When was the last time you ate or drank anything?" Again she didn't wait for an answer. "Well, don't just stand there Javier: get the man a drink of water. Ryan go get him something to eat. Come on, come on." The two men went to work in the tiny room. The fridge door opened and slammed shut.

And Kate's phone rang. She pulled the cell free from her pocket and answered it without looking at the caller I.D. Her gaze was locked on Castle.

"Beckett."

"Kate?" The sound of the panicked voice was like an electric shock and Beckett felt herself suddenly unfreeze. In front of her, Espo had returned with a coffee cup of water and Lanie was watching Castle, steely eyed, as he drank it.

"Oh, Martha." Her exclamation drew Castle's attention with a snap.

"Richard has disappeared from the hospital. I thought I would phone you before I send out for the marines. Is he-?"

"Yes, Martha, he's here."

"Oh thank god." she said. Then her voice hardened. "Put him on would you Katherine?" 

"Castle. Your Mom would like a word." She said, handing the phone over. She was relieved to see that he still had it in him to look panicked.

"Mother, I- Yes. Yes. I had to - No. No. I didn't - OK, ouch! OK. Fair point. Well, I will explain it to them. Yes. Oh now? No no no no. Mom- Mo- Hello Doctor. Yes. Yes. No, I know it wasn't a - Well. I- hell- Ye- I - breakin- up- tunnel- " He thumbed the icon to end the call. "I'm a dead man. Lanie can I live with you?" Lanie only pursed her lips.

"Castle what were you thinking coming down here?" Kate said, and felt her voice had lost all of its power. She knew why he was here, but she couldn't help asking. The detective in her was always looking for confirmation, even of the obvious. 

"I had to." He looked at her pointedly, all glibness gone. "You were right, Kate, I should have told you earlier. But I didn't. I am sorry. I am so sorry. And I am not going to sit back and let you take all the heat for my decision."

"What decision?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, what decision?" Espo echoed.

"We should go." Lanie, who had been scrutinising both Castle and Kate, suddenly spoke. 

"No. Lanie. No. Stay. All of you." Castle sounded as if each word was being torn out from his chest, as if it was almost too much to get each one out. He stalled on the next word and Kate took her chance.

"No. Castle you don't have to do this. You don't. You and I, we need to talk-"

"No, it's ok." He said, and the naked appeal in his face was unmistakable: please let me do this, let me make it right. "They need to know. Gina's been fielding calls all morning. Everyone is going to know by the end of the day." He turned to look at everyone there; each one in turn, as if he was memorising their faces. She watched him take a deep breath, wince and then: "I'm deaf."


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm deaf." Those two words were the most difficult he had had to speak in his entire life, and for a moment it felt like it was going to be impossible to get them out. But now it was done. Done. And now... now everyone was staring. At him. He shifted in his seat, bracing his arm against the table, and tried to ignore the headache that had been plaguing him since he had woken in the hospital. He scanned them all again, reading expressions, looking, looking, for clues to what was going on and what was coming next. All except Beckett. For some reason, not entirely clear even to himself, he couldn't quite bring himself even to look in her direction. 

"You're deaf? You're not deaf." Ryan finally spoke, his voice skipping over the words and ending in a short you-can't-fool-me laugh. 

"No, I'm deaf." Castle repeated. It was no easier the second time he said it. The muscles in his jaw felt tight and he swallowed thickly. Even his own body didn't want to say it. It was trying to shut him up and he suddenly realised why. He respected every person in this room, but it wasn't until just now that he realised how much he wanted their respect. He wanted them to like him, to see in him a colleague, a fellow sleuth able to hold his own and bring down the bad guys equal with any of them. How would anything be the same again? Even if Montgomery and Bob allowed him to continue with the 12th, he had a new title now: Deaf Rick Castle the Deaf Writer. The Deaf wannabe-cop. The Deaf - 

"Are you sure?" Ryan stumbled on, caught himself and blushed.

"Pretty sure." He answered evenly. And his gaze touched on Lanie's. She was staring at him, but something was off with the intensity of it. He blinked. Oh, she knew. She already knew. How - ?

"But-" Ryan said again, interrupting his train of thought, then stopped, brow crinkling. Espo continued to stare. "But you're, you- I'm talking to you. You're talking back."

"Hearing aids. And, I can lip read. Amongst other things."

"Bullshit." Epso expostulated in a sudden exhalation. "This is a joke. We'd know if you were-"

"How would you know Javi?" Castle said, before he could stop himself. The anxiety was making him brittle, edgy, and he couldn't stop himself saying more. "How? This didn't happen to me yesterday. I've had years to learn to hide it from pretty much everyone." Shut up Rick, shut up. That went down like a lead balloon. The defining bête noire of Javier Esposito was disloyalty, dishonesty, in those he considered friends. And boy had Rick been both. Oh boy. Javi bristled, his jaw hardening. Rick braced for the blow.

"Show us: the hearing aids." He ordered. And there was a shocked admonishment from everyone else in the room.

"No. It's ok. Fine." He'd expected to have to do this, sooner or later, and managed to produce one of the hearing aids without his fingers shaking. Espo stared at it. They all did. Castle cringed inside, but held himself still. This had to be the worst day of his entire life. The worst. When no one said anything after a good 20 seconds, the self-consciousness was too much, he couldn't take it anymore and with fumbling fingers, put it back. Espo blinked, some fire going out of his eyes.

"Well, I'll be damned." Ryan said, almost to himself. 

"You knew about this?" Espo turned on Beckett.

"Only after this morning." Rick interceded. Beckett did not need his protection, but he'd be damned if he'd let her come under fire for this. "As I said, Espo, I've had a lid on this for years. Beckett didn't know."

"And now everyone's gonna know." Epso said. The barb was pointed with Espo's continuing, if diminishing, anger and Rick took it without complaint.

"Everyone's gonna know." He repeated dully. The weight of that knowledge suddenly felt too weighty to bear and his shoulder's sagged. All those years. All that time, and money and effort. All for nothing. All for nothing. His head felt suddenly heavy and light at the same time. His skin was way too hot for his body. He shivered suddenly.

"-Castle? 

"Hmph - what?" He blinked. Beckett was suddenly in front of him. She looked as blurry as she sounded. That was weird. And now she was slowly sliding up onto the ceiling. That was curious. A trick, worthy of the Roger's dynasty of magicians, shysters and two-bit showmen - and ladies! Wow.

"That's awesome!" He told her. His voice sounded slurred. "How are you doing that?" She grabbed him with her three pairs of hands. This was so cool! His head felt foggy, but it was just so astounding that he managed: "Best trick ever!"  
Then there was a lot of very fast talking. 

"-something-! Catch- Es-o! R-!" That was the very high up, six handed Beckett talking now.

"Oh god, why does he have to be so big. How fucking tall is he anyway?" A deeper voice, easier to understand. 

"My back!" A different deeper voice suddenly groaned. Then -

And he was moving, moving, and then a sudden short drop onto something smooth and giving. He bit back a yelp as the drop jolted his hand and ribs. But then his head connected with something softer. 

"Something something something something. Call a bus." Ceiling octopus Beckett said, somewhere out of sight. And OK, that he heard.

"NO!" He forced his eyes open, trying to find the detective. He managed to force his way up onto one elbow. "No bus. No hospital! Beckett-" 

"Castle." She was down off the ceiling, but still shot in soft focus. He had to stare at her lips to make sense of things. Damn hearing aids not doing their job. "Castle, stop. Lie down." She pressed her two, only two again, hands against his shoulders. He was too worked up to let her push him back. "Lanie? Is this the concussion?" Beckett demanded, her eyes wide and never leaving his face.

And Beckett disappeared into the murky sound-scape that was fuzzing up the rest of the room. He could hear voices, but not make them out. This was going wrong. All wrong. 

"Castle? Rick?" Lanie was there again, right in front of him. Over enunciating every word. Fuck. His heart was doing double time.

"No bus! Lanie. Please. This is not how it's supposed to go. I screwed up. I have to fix it."

"No, right now you have to lie back down, honey." She said, staring at him. "Let me check you out. If this is the concussion raising its ugly head again you have to go back to the hospital."

"No-" 

"Castle. I could help them call the bus right now, or you let me check you out and you might, might, get to stay here. You with me?" She said. And he knew when he was beat. He let her use the light touch of her index finger to his chest to push him back onto the soft surface. "OK, let me check you out." She shone that annoying light in his eyes again. Then "OK, you remember your name?"

"Richard Edgar Castle." He complied.

"Do you remember how you got here?"

"Yeah. Got one of the nurses to drive me. She's a fan. Nice kid. Kind reminds me of-"

"OK. Got it. How's the vision? Headache?"

"A - a little blurry. And yeah, still."

"Feel like you're gonna be sick?"

"No, not really."

"Hungry?"

"Uh, yeah, now that you mention it. Alexis was going to smuggle me in a muffin, but ah, I didn't hang around long enough-"

"OK." She patted his arm. "OK. It could be the concussion, but I think it's more likely low blood sugar. Give him those donuts Ryan. Javi, go get a soda." Three frosted pink donuts appeared suddenly under Rick's nose. "Eat!" She commanded. There was more talking, and then suddenly he was alone in the break room with the two women. He bit down on a donut under the M.E.'s stern gaze. God, that was good. Oh my god. Donuts: manna from heaven! And he usually disliked them too. Lanie spoke again as he watched the women over his donut. "Hmm. I'd let him stay here for a while. See if things get sorted out with some food and water. Get someone to watch him for a time."

"Um -?" Beckett started.

"Oh no. No."

"But you're a doctor."

"Of dead people."

"I've got a suspect, from this morning's raid, in Interview that -"

"Espsito and Ryan can more than handle. And there has been more than a polite delay in what's coming next."

"Lanie-"

"Talk. " Lanie gestured in his direction, then back at Beckett. "To him. Now." She snatched up a black bag from the table. "And you -" She pointed at him now. He blinked, startled. "You I will see later for the apology, the ass-whooping, and the expensive bottle of perfume you are going to buy me. And the story. Oh and it better be a good story Castle." She opened the door and spoke to Beckett. "I'll let the boys know they can get started on the interview." And she was gone.

And he was alone.

With Beckett.

And nothing but time.

End  
Apologies for short chapter. Taking time where I can to write. More soon. Castle and Beckett have their talk.


	6. Chapter 6

Kate took the cold sweating soda can from Esposito at the door as he passed by on his way to interview Baxter. He nodded at her: we got this Boss, but she could see in his stiff expression that he was still smarting over Castle's subterfuge. It would take a while for him to calm down, she knew, so it was probably for the best that he take lead detective on breaking Baxter. It would do him good. Get him focussed on something more positive. She nodded back and shut the door. As it clicked home, she squeezed her eyelids together for a long moment, took a breath, and turned back to the room.

"Here." She popped the can and handed it to Castle where he was reclining in a rumpled, dazed slump, nibbling at that lurid pink donut. He took the soda without a word, pretty much without looking up, and instead of drinking he gingerly pressed it to the mess of bruises and swelling along his cheek. A fine shiver ran through his hand as he touched the can to his skin, and the movement drew her attention to the deep bruising and battered knuckles. He had really let go on Baxter. Oh Castle... With those injuries, and his hand splinted, hair sticking up in sweaty, choppy waves, face pale, and still wearing that dusty coat and those baggy scrubs, he was a mess. And it was going to get worse before it got better. 

Lanie was right: they had to talk. Before Montgomery returned. And before the media began their feeding frenzy.

She looked around for a seat and her gaze fell on Castle's couch. In the past she might simply have sat down with him. She may even, she admitted to herself, have plucked the can from his unsteady hand and held it in place for him while they talked. But now things were not so easy. For a start, she wasn't sure how angry to be with him anymore for nearly getting killed, against how guilty and angry she felt at herself for not handling the her own reaction in a more professional manner. She opted to pull a chair close by and sit facing him. "Feeling any better?" She asked. He didn't answer, just continued to slowly eat that disgusting pastry, staring at the floor. She nudged his foot with hers. "Castle."

"Huh?" He looked up. A line of condensation from the soda had streaked down the side of his face. And she paused, a pithy remark about being away with the fairies stalled on her tongue. Yesterday she would have just ribbed him on his not hearing her. And yesterday he would have taken it, maybe turned it around on her, and they would have moved on. But now, was he ruminating, zoned out with his sugar low, or was it that he simply hadn't heard her? Couldn't hear her. It was that last possibility that had changed everything and thrown off her game, their game. She didn't even know where to begin that talk they needed to have.  
Maybe it just had to start at the beginning.

"I haven't thanked you Castle." She said, leaning forwards, elbows on her knees and hands clasped. He stared. Blinked. And then she saw it. How had she not seen it before? It was clear now; it was right there in the subtle dart of his gaze from her lips to her eyes, roving over her like he looked at a crime scene: searching for clues, leaving nothing unexamined. He was literally reading her words, her expression, her body language, to augment what the hearing aids didn't pick up. How hadn't she seen him doing this before? How had they all missed it. It rattled her and she had to take a moment to remember what she was saying. "For having my back this morning. Thank you. If you hadn't been there-"

"That's what partner's do." He said without hesitation. She needed his help, he was there. A simple huge thing stated so plainly, so without guile or agenda, it felt like a slap in the face. Then his hollow-eyed looked returned. "I'm going to fix this Kate." She blinked, startled at his use of her first name. The urgent intimacy of it was almost painful.

"Castle-"

"I will. That's why I came here-"

"Castle!" She repeated, but the earnest rambling didn't even pause. Clearly, words weren't going to cut it.

"This is on me." He went on. "You shouldn't have to be the one who has to explain. When Montgomery gets back I'll go - What are you doing?"   
"Here. You're going to spill it." Kate spoke from beside him as she sat down and reached for the soda can. More effective than a shout to stop him talking, she took the can from his hand and examined the bruising. It was awful. She hoped Espo was exorcising some of his anger on Baxter. "There?" She gently pressed the cold surface about where he had had it. He nodded, staring at her.

"I will fix it-" He breathed. He was stuck on his line of thought and she could hear the desperate undertone in his voice, see the strain in his face. She could easily imagine this was the source of the energy that had enabled him to physically make the journey to the 12th. He was clearly exhausted, but on a fixed train of thought and action and there was no use trying to divert the conversation so she nodded and continued holding the can to his face. He visibly relaxed then. Probably thinking she may let him 'fix it' as soon as Montgomery got back. As if it could be fixed. Clearly he was not thinking with his usual piercing level of clarity or he would have realised it was now less about fixing things than it was about damage control. And it was unlikely that the sight of Castle wearing stolen hospital scrubs and staggering bandaged and beaten through Montgomery's office door would reassure the Captain that the situation was anything more than barely salvageable. She sighed. Her fingers were uncomfortably chilled holding the soda can, she suddenly realised. And it mustn't be too comfortable against Castle's skin either.

"I think that's enough." She pulled the can away, considering his bruised cheek. "It's probably better that the soda goes inside you at this point, than on the side of your face." She handed the can back.

"I really am sorry-"

"Stop, Castle." She looked at him pointedly. This constant apologizing had to stop. "Rather than being sorry, please just tell me why you kept this to yourself? We've been partnered up for months now. Why didn't you trust me enough to tell me about your hearing?"

"Trust you?" He repeated, looking at her closely. "Beckett, like I told Epso I haven't told anyone in over 20 years that didn't absolutely have to know."

"Why not?"

"Why not-?" He looked downright frustrated now, and a bit disappointed, and he choked on the words. "I- Before today, who was I?"

"I don't understand?"

"I think you do. I was Richard Castle, mystery writer. On the New York Times best seller list. Millionaire. The party guy. A self-made man. I was the guy who brought you coffee just how you like it, every day. I had something to offer to help solve your cases, even though you'll hardly ever admit it. I was your -" He paused, clearly irritated, even angry. "-attached to the 12th to find inspiration for my next best seller. But now what am I?" He stared, heated emotion clearing his gaze. She didn't have to be a genius to know what he was alluding to. And he must have seen her put the pieces together because he nodded sharply. "Exactly." He paused again, and she didn't know what to say. Telling him it didn't matter that he was deaf, that she didn't see him any differently would be a lie. And they both knew it.

"After I lost my hearing," He stopped, licked his lower lip, swallowed, "everyone was so focussed on what was lost. It was bad enough feeling like I'd slipped out step with the rest of the world, without everyone around me reminding me every single second. Before it happened I was just a regular kid. I went to the park, I played with my friends, I rode my bike, I skipped school sometimes and I got caught and punished for it. But after wards," he paused, exhaled. "Afterwards, I was the deaf kid. I couldn't be trusted to do anything anymore, to achieve anything, to be able to do anything for myself. I wasn't even allowed to go to the damn park by myself anymore. And if I tried, I didn't even get punished for it. Like I was so damaged even that might finish me off. It was like I'd lost everything I was along with that chunk of my hearing." He had stopped looking at her as he talked, instead moving stiffly to sit forward, resting his elbows on his knees. And now as he paused again, Kate found herself unable even to breathe in the silence. She felt frozen in her seat. She had no idea all this was inside him. And from Martha's explanation of what had happened so long ago, with her despair at not being able to reach him or even to understand why things had eventually changed, it was clear that she had no idea this had been held inside him for so long either. He turned his head to look at her. 

"So, you need to know that it's not about trust Kate. I do trust you. No, it's about being allowed to be who I am!" He said. His jaw clenched around words that were still heated with an old bitter anger. "And it's about stopping people looking at me like you are looking at me right now!"

"I'm not-" She started automatically, and he gave her a look that he must have picked up from Lanie. She stopped, chagrined. But -"OK. But Castle, not telling people may work when it's just you, writing and partying, but when you came to the 12th it stopped being just about you. Our job is dangerous. We rely on each other to get it done and to get it done as safely as possible. And we have to trust one another with everything that counts to keep it that way. Otherwise, it can't work."

"I know. But I was handling it." He objected, the old anger turning peevish. That sounded more like the Castle she knew, but right now childish whining had no charm and just grated against her skin. He had about zero rights to be angry with her challenging him about such a vital part of The Job. And it was clear that up until things went bad, that he really had no idea what his withholding the state of his hearing could have resulted in for the rest of the team. Far from handling it, he had just been damn lucky. Of all the self-centred, self-absorbed, clueless, childish-

"Until you weren't!" She retorted hotly. "Until you couldn't hear something that you really needed to hear and you were nearly killed! Look Castle, I am truly sorry about what you have to carry with you every day, and I think what you have managed to accomplish is nothing short of remarkable. I do. But as long as you are with the 12th, with me, you absolutely cannot keep things like this to yourself!"

They stared at one another. Glared.

"And I said: I will fix it." Castle finally spoke, voice tight.

"Oh, really. How? How are you going to fix this so Captain Montgomery doesn't kick you to the curb?"

"Doesn't-?" Castle snapped back, eyes widening. Something, some new fresh emotion flashed in his eyes, but was gone before she could identify it. He opened his mouth to say something-

And here was a knock at the door. Ryan poked his head in.

"Ah, sorry to interrupt," he glanced at each of them in turn, expression tentative. Then his eyes widened. "Hey aren't you two supposed to be working things out?"  
"We are-" Kate retorted, surprised and then aggravated that Castle had spoken the same words at the same time. How dare they be so in sync when she was so angry with him! She glared. He glared back. 

"Uh, guys-"

" Ryan- What is it? Baxter's lawyer causing problems?" Kate tore her gaze from Castle's, blinked and looked up at the detective hanging inside the room, propped on the door handle. Now that she had steered the conversation back to the case, Ryan looked like a kid about to give a present to his parents on Christmas. The energy was just buzzing from him.

"No, no. It's all good. Very good. Espo's on a roll. I thought you might like to see him take it home." He gave a small wolfish grin at Castle. "You really gave it to him good Castle. Guy looks like a punching bag. Wanna see him go down for the count?"

Castle stared. He was scanning, Kate realised, recognizing the analytical look on his face. He was evaluating Ryan. Not just his words, but everything he could see. Then he nodded and a small tense smile that did not reach his eyes pulled at his mouth. "Yes. I. Do."

End Chapter 6.

OK, so, not entirely smooth sailing. Yet. Bit of misunderstanding there. Bit of miscommunication between our heroes. I am an incurable romantic, though, so it will get there. Please R&R *looks hopeful*


	7. Chapter 7

Inside the interview room, Baxter looked even larger than Rick remembered him. Much larger. It didn't seem possible, but there he was. Monstrous in every dimension, the man's head alone was a gargantuan block thunked onto massive shoulders like a hunk of unworked clay thrown onto a potter's wheel, with features crudely hacked into place as if someone had tried to sculpt it with a chainsaw. And now that he could see them, the marks his soft writer's hands had left upon that enormous face hardly seemed worth the praise that Ryan had handed out. A black eye (note: that is how to do a proper criminal dead eyed stare), a split lip and bruised cheek bone. Beauty spots at best. And the giant's hands! Sweet mother of... Where they rested, in fists no less, on the interview room table each was daintily spotted in red along the knuckles where they had impacted with Rick's face and ribs. And yes, those hands were the size of hubcaps. He was sure they were. He swallowed. Well, one thing was very clear: one Richard E. Castle should be very very dead. 

"something Castle?" He heard the voice as a hand touched his lower back and grabbed his coat, pulling, and he realised he had swayed forwards on his feet and grabbed onto the frame of the interview window. Beckett had a handful of his jacket, hauling back to counter his movement. He looked back at her and nodded: I'm ok. He frowned at her tense, pensive expression. He didn't like to see her face pulled down in lines of worry like that. She already wore the burden of long hard fought days and unquiet nights too much for his liking. 

"He's just - ah - He's just a bit larger than I remember." He stumbled over his words, trying to let her know she wasn't going to get a repeat of his break room swoon. It was her turn to nod now, lips twisted in a yeah he is that acknowledgement. "Next time I'll try to wait until the guy's back is all the way turned before I jump him!" He tried for levity in the lie, knowing he wouldn't ever wait. As terrifying as Baxter was, it would have been so much worse if he'd hesitated and that murderous giant had reached Beckett before - That wasn't something that bore contemplation.

"There can't be a next time Castle." She returned, and he flinched. Low blow. He already knew things were heading that way, there was no need to rub it in. He had already explained that he was sorry and that he going to fix it. What more did she want from him? Along with the irritation he suddenly remembered that they were supposed to be fighting, and tension returned to his jaw. But too late he saw in her eyes that there was more to her objection than the memory of their fight in the break room, something worse than their fight and his lie. Something bleaker than that. His anger lost its heat and he opened his mouth to say, what? He wasn't sure? But she looked away, back into the interview room. Turned away with a finality that gnarled his words in his throat, stuck them there. Her hand dropped from his coat. 

Well, if this wasn't turning out to be the best day of his life....

Esposito spoke then, grabbing his attention. He seized on to the distraction with both hands and looked back in to the interview room. Damn. He hated it when people had their back to him. And right now both Esposito and Ryan had their backs to him. Well, now that his damned secret was out, he would never have to scramble to put together an interview again. Castle reached for the volume control and yanked the dial. 

"- have the murder weapon Baxter." Espo was saying. "We have motive, we have opportunity, we have witnesses. The only thing missing: is your confession."  
Oh that was sweet. So sweet. Castle almost bit down on his knuckle to stop the squeal, but at the last minute remembered the state of his hands. Esposito had a way with cop talk that made Rick's fingers itch to start typing. For a moment he forgot anything had changed since this morning. He needed a pen. He needed paper. He needed Espo to repeat that into a recorder. With feeling. Rick palmed the window, suddenly totally absorbed.

"Come on Ty." Ryan put in. "You're looking at life without parole in a small dark little hole in the ground. You confess, put your mark on paper, and we can see if that can't be made into a bigger sized hole."

Rick watched Baxter's face as it remained completely unmoved. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was so still his lawyer was eventually forced to partially stand and lean over to offer his advice into his client's ear. The legal professional, , a surprisingly erudite looking man with blond hair and a faint pencil moustache, was tall and graceful in his movements, and he made sure that no part of himself made contact with his client. Even going so far as to hold his coat back from brushing against the bigger man's shoulder. Fascinating. Then he whispered to his client and Rick's eyes narrowed in concentration, eyes tracking the man's lips. He was in profile which was a problem, but then he turned just a little towards their window to look narrow-eyed at the two detectives across the table and - will not confess. Do I make myself clear? Castle watched him turn back to his client to gauge the man's response. There was none. Nothing. Not even a twitch. Was the man stoned? No. Wait. Rick looked again, catching a faint gleam of perspiration on Baxter's upper lip and forehead. That wasn't stoicism or tough-guy indifference on display, that was the utter stillness of a big man so in fear of his life he wasn't even game to move. Castle swept his gaze over the lawyer's clothes. Pinstripe suit, not overtly pricy but very well tailored to fit his slim physique in all the right places. The watch, however, was another story: European, white gold and sleek metallic lines; he bet that was sapphire crystal glass covering the finely worked face. The watch wasn't new either. Rick had been researching watches for a piece he was writing, and had taken a shine to the catalogue he was browsing. That one was definitely not amongst the range for the last year.

OH!

"He didn't do it!" 

"What?" He heard Beckett loud and clear this time and flinched. 

" Audemars Piguet!" Forgetting his injuries he slapped the window with the back of his hand in a magician's flourish of an emphasis. "OW!" Espo and Ryan flinched and looked over their shoulders, eyes roving the mirrored surface.

"Castle!"

"Audemars Piguet, the watch." Rick cradled his hand against his bruised chest, too excited to stop now, and too in the moment to remember they were currently angry with one another. "Beckett, look at Baxter's lawyer. The watch, Kate the watch! That's a 100,000 Audemars Piguet wristwatch. He's tried to dress down. The big boss's orders I bet. But that watch! Money Detective. Money!" He paused, watching her catch up with him, watching the wheels turn. He jiggled on his feet, impatient. "Plus he just ordered his client not to confess!"

"What? How did you? Oh -." She breathed, looking at him with that familiar crackling, joyful intensity that made his heart race and his writer's heart sing poetry.  
"How could Ty Baxter afford a lawyer with an Audemars Piguet wrist watch?" Rick prompted, knowing she'd put it together and take it home in the next moment. He bit down on his lip to keep from squealing his excitement.

"He couldn't." Kate carried on. She stepped closer, not seeming to know she was doing it. She looked at Baxter, then back up at him. "Someone else did. Someone who is giving the orders. Someone with the power to order a thug like Baxter to take a life sentence the hard way."  
"And someone that scares him so much he won't even scowl when he does it." Castle added. They were inches away from each other now. He could smell her perfume, see each exquisite eye lash, each faint freckle. And for a second they were still, staring right into each other. My god, if she became any more beautiful to him he would probably die. And for what felt like the millionth time he cursed that morning, cursed himself for messing up so badly. He didn't want to fight with her, especially not on what was likely to be his last day here. He couldn't stay angry . Neither of them could though it seemed, if they weren't able to remember to stay mad at each other for longer than a few minutes. But then Beckett's eyes lost their sparkle, and the moment was over. She broke eye contact and scurried her gaze back to the interview room. 

"You're right." She said, her lips betraying only a slight tremor that she had felt that buzz of connection. Yesterday, seeing that would have filled him with hope and desire and frustration, but now it just hollowed him out knowing that very soon he would likely lose ever seeing it again. He watched her watch Baxter and wished he felt nothing at all. "Baxter didn't do it. I have to stop the interview-" 

She left the observation room at speed. Rick turned back to Baxter and his rich lawyer and regarded them flatly. Well, it might be his last day, but at least he was going to leave on a high. Woo fucking hoo.

CastleCastleCastleCastleCastleCastle

Word was out, Rick could see it. From his hiding spot, behind the half shuttered venetian blinds of the break room, the slow ripple ripe with gossip was going around the bullpen in a visible wave. His cover was blown. Within minutes they would all know. Damn Wikowski's infamous inability to stay off social media for more than an hour.

He sighed, retreated from the window, and carefully lowered himself onto the couch. Ouch. He pressed his lips together to stop himself making any noise and attracting the whispering bullpen to actively seek him out. Ribs, hand, head, stabbed him with their disapproval that he had moved - in any way. Oh yes, the hospital pain killers had worn off and he was once again one giant mass of hurt. 

At least he had made the last half hour worthwhile though. He had borrowed a cell and made some overdue phone calls to Alexis (angry, upset, happy to hear from him, wanting him home), his mother (still annoyed, no scrap that, very annoyed, but understanding why he was where he was. Yes, he was nothing if not his mother's son), and Gina (who had handled things surprisingly well with a press release already doing the rounds and two interviews lined up for tomorrow - before the bruises faded and the opportunity for milking the heroism angle was lost). And lastly, to Bob. Which didn't get through, perhaps because he was still meeting with Montgomery? He left a message. It would have to be enough. For now.

There was still no sign of Montgomery. Or Beckett or Espo or Ryan. Since Beckett had made her dramatic entrance and arrested Baxter's lawyer, sweeping him from the room and leaving her colleagues to suspend their interview and return Baxter to the cells, he had not seen any of them. So he had made his way back to the break room and made his calls with only the occasional interruption from a caffeine or lunch seeking detective to interrupt his peace. Now he was trapped here by a rising tide of media gossip amongst the men and women outside the room. He sighed. And winced as his ribcage twinged painfully.  
God, he was tired.

But, as could be expected when one thinks such a thought, there came an interruption and the door to the break room opened. Ah ha! The men of the hour, if without the woman of said hour this time. 

"Castle?" Ryan sounded surprised to see him there. He tried to straighten up his slouch and winced as he nodded a greeting.

"Castle." Espo's greeting was curt. Rick nodded to him too. Then Javi paused and Rick caught the furtive, subtle jerk of Ryan's head in his direction. "So, ah, that was a good catch earlier. With Baxter. Beckett told us that you figured that the guy was just a stooge and that the lawyer was part of it. Ah, good catch. Probably going to be a much bigger case now. Bigger fish to catch." He nodded again, clearly uncomfortable, but Rick understood the message. 

"Thanks." He said, knowing the other man would get his message too. It was the beginnings of forgiveness. He could more than live with that. He was so grateful for it he was glad it would hurt more to cry than to stop himself.

"Listen Epso," He said. "I am sorry about not telling you all about my uh, "why is it still so difficult to say? "hearing."

"Bro'," Javi shook his head, inclining for a second to glance at Ryan. "I get why you did it. I'm still pissed you did it, but I get it." Rick blinked, taken aback. He flicked a glance at Ryan, who was managing to look pleased with himself without making it too obvious. Oh. Rick could have kissed the man and it must have showed because Ryan did his half nod-half ignore thing that he did and disappeared to the coffee machine. "Just don't do anything that stupid again."

"Oh no." Rick fell over his words. Gratitude was no longer a sufficient word to describe how he was feeling. "I won't. Never again. Learned my lesson. And I- thank you." 

And that was it. Forgiven. Or on the way to being so. It was a guy thing.

Then it was on. The inevitable questions. Coffee and questions. Questions he was only too happy to answer. How did it happen? How bad was his hearing anyway? Did his family all know? How were his wives (now ex's) persuaded to keep their mouths shut? What did he do to get by? How did he cover for his hearing? Could they see his very expensive hearing aids again? Could they try them out (what? No! Get your own super enhanced very expensive hearing augmentation devices!)? Could they see what damage Baxter's big fists had done?

And that's how Lanie found Rick with his shirt up around his armpits, pointing to a particularly awesome if very painful bruise, whilst Ryan and Espo variously whistled or nodded their wincing admiration. 

"What is it with guys and war wounds?" She suddenly said from behind them. They all jumped. Castle cursed as the sharp movement forced damaged muscle, ligament and bone to move. He dropped his shirt under Lanie's disapproving eye. "What are you looking so pleased about Castle?"

"'War wounds'."

"Oh brother. So, I take it you've all kissed and made up then?"

The two detectives grinned.

"If only Beckett would let me kiss and make up with her." Rick said, brain comfortably back on non-filter mode. Then paused. Oh shit. "Oh, that came out wrong."

"No it didn't." Ryan said mildly from the coffee machine. Espo grinned only the second grin Rick had seen on him today.

"Don't tell Beckett." He pleaded. "Don't. I know you I owe you guys more, more than I - please don't tell her."

The men just grinned.

"Oh, it's going to take more than help on one case and you flashing your bits at her to make that happen." Lanie said. 

"Tell me what to do." Oh he needed Lanie's advice. If he was ever going to completely fix this mess he needed her help.

"Well you can start by apologising."

"I did that already and it went over so well we got into a fight and now she's not talking to me." 

"What exactly did you apologise for?"

"For not telling her about my hearing." He stared at Lanie, bewildered by the question. What else would he be sorry for? " And I told her I would fix it. Why? Isn't that-? What are you all shaking your heads for?"

"Oh man." Ryan shook his head. His expression was one of pure pity. Espo tsk'd and Lanie just stared at him.

"What?"

"Just how much do you remember about the raid this morning?" Espo suddenly asked.

"Well. I remember we went into the hideout. I remember there was a lot of weed. Oh man, I- Oh, ok. You guys and the SWAT team were clearing the house. I was following Beckett. It was noisy. I couldn't make much sense of what everyone was saying. It's like that when there's too much going on sometimes. No big deal. I remember I saw Baxter. He was coming up behind Beckett. I got the jump on him. We fought. Then it all gets a bit- I remember you guys doing this." He gave a thumbs up with his unbroken hand. "Then- then -" His voice petered out. There was nothing more. "Then the hospital."

"Oooh." Espo nodded. The nod and the oooh of a man who knew too much Rick decided. "OK. So you don't remember after the fight? Oh. Well, that explains it."

"Explains what?" Rick pleaded. Montgomery was going to be getting back from his meeting anytime soon and the pressure was already too intense. His head was starting to hammer again.

"You don't remember Beckett then?" Ryan butted in and Rick gave what must have been his dirtiest stop-playing looks he had ever shot anyone because Ryan hurried on. "You were pretty knocked around Castle. Baxter's got a hellava right hook on him and he got you real hard."

"We thought he'd punched your brains out of your skull. There was blood coming out of your ears man." Javi chipped in. Lanie shot him a mortified look and he stopped talking. "We didn't know about the hearing aids then." He defended himself. And Castle felt faint. He was damn glad he was sitting down.  
"You were talking nonsense Castle." Ryan said. "You couldn't remember your name. You didn't know where you were or who we were. Beckett- She was - Look you gotta understand, being in a fight for real is not like it is in the movies or one of your books. Yeah I know you've done your research, but that's all academic. One punch can kill Castle, we all know that, but it's another thing to actually see it happening." Rick stared at Ryan, the light slowly going on. Oh. "We've seen it before. Too many times. A guy gets a few whacks to the head and he's a bit punch drunk, a bit hazy, but he's talking to you. He's not out cold. He's still breathing. But all the time he's - he's dying anyway. You just can't see it from the outside. Not right away." 

"Oh." Rick felt his words die on his tongue. His lips, his jaws, felt like they were made of rubber. "So Beckett thought-"

"We all did." Espo said. "Baxter's one fucking huge hombre bro and he smacked you good. How you punched him out before you went down I will never know." I punched him out?

"So you see," Lanie said, giving his shoulder a gentle attention grabbing squeeze as she sat down beside him. Her voice was pure gentleness itself. "You've been apologising for the wrong thing. You want to start to patch things up with Beckett, honey? Well, first you have to apologise for dying right in front of her."


	8. Chapter 8

The elevator doors closed with only Kate inside and she let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and sagged against the back wall. Castle's keen insight had been dead on the money. Baxter's lawyer, Louis Carmichael, was indeed not what he seemed; more Family Enforcer material than defence attorney. But, knowing that and proving it was going to require a lot more leg work, a lot more late nights, a lot more confrontations with Carmichael, and a lot more leaning on the immovable object that was the massive and mostly silent Baxter. Though it was a thrilling turn to the case, it was wearying in the utmost even to think upon it right now. Especially after the morning that had preceded it.

Even thinking about the earlier part of the day, she was tempted to press the elevator's 'hold' button. A few minutes with only herself for company would be a godsend right now, but it was not to be. A moment ago Montgomery's secretary had called to let her know that the Captain was on his way back to the 12th and that he expected to see both her and their resident writer in his office waiting for him when he arrived. His secretary had let her know too that the Captain did not sound like he was in the best of moods - and was it true that that lovely man Richard Castle was really deaf? Really? Damn that Wikowski.... And so Kate's mood had dropped a little lower than it already was. She had known this was coming, but forewarned was not particularly forearmed this time. 

And forearmed for what really? To argue the almost impossible case to keep Castle in the 12th? She had been so vocal for so long about seeing him gone. And Lanie was right: this was the perfect opportunity to let nature take its course, and damn him if he didn't have it coming. But... But... She bit down on her upper lip and drew in a breath, letting it out slowly. If that was really how it was, why was she finding even thinking about the chair next to her desk not being there as something close to unthinkable? As something close to a physical ache in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment.

She was still reeling from this morning's raid. That was what had her thinking in this nonlinear fashion. That and knowing what was coming next. Everyone who had been there was now in the system for mountains of paperwork, counselling, debriefing, and more paperwork and reports to the Captain and on and on. Even Castle was going to have to put in his own on this one, which was yet another reason to feel ill and exhausted. She would have to find time she didn't have to proofread his report to make sure he didn't sneak in any more florid literary descriptions. She was still enduring the tittering fallout from his first report in which he had described an escaped felon's actual escape as: the most masterful outcome of keen observation, opportunity, and pernicious derring-do since the audacious John Dillinger escape from Lake County jail in 1934. 

Oh. My. God. 

So she knew what she should do. Really. She had fought against having a civilian follow her around for months, until the routine of trying to evict Castle from her desk, her life, felt like a second job. Then it had become a running joke. And then it had disappeared in to something much... She shook her head. She had had good reason that she should not want him around, leaving aside the truly awful, painful embarrassment that was being the so called inspiration for Nikki Heat. (Oh my god. Just thinking about what he must be writing was almost too much to bare). And that good reason had just borne the ugly painful fruit she knew had been possible even as she had squashed that knowledge down as their friendship had stuttered to life. She didn't think she would ever get past that raid this morning, seeing him getting in way over his head again, and then seeing him on the floor of that filthy den with blood over his face, alternatively blanking out and rambling in an incoherent disjointed stream of consciousness that was going to give her nightmares for weeks. 

She had been right when she told him there couldn't be a next time.

He was just so damn lucky.

She couldn't take it if it happened again. She couldn't take being responsible for it, though she knew he would never hold her accountable. 

All of a sudden, the ache of holding her poker face all morning, and the second shock when he had collapsed again in the break room, was becoming almost too much to continue carrying. She drew in a deep breath as the memory of that second time rose unbidden, almost a flash back. How he had seemed to just fade away in front of her; his skin blanching, eyes staring at her, through her, like he had back at the house when she thought he was dying. She remembered with cold dread how he had reached out for her, or tried to. And she'd grabbed him back, snatching desperately at his arms, his coat, but could not stop the slow decent as he slid from the stool. Couldn't help him. Couldn't stop it from happening again. Helpless. Little more than a bystander as he disappeared into the fog inside his own head. Again. It didn't help one bit that it had been nothing more than a sugar low. And the memory roared through her. She grabbed her eyes, covered them against it. 

She drew in another breath. Held it. Let it out. Again. Willed her heart to stop pounding in her chest. And fought with herself to regain control.

Kate Beckett was not one to run or shy from life. It was something she just couldn't do. It wasn't in her DNA she supposed. The precinct counsellor she had been ordered to see after the first shooting she had been involved with at the 12th had put it bluntly, but clearly: some people run and some people freeze when they are threatened or afraid Detective Beckett, but some have a different instinct. Like you, their reaction to fear is to fight. And there is nothing wrong with that reaction. It is perfectly natural, and today it saved your life. It only becomes a problem if that instinct takes over and becomes the single unthinking default setting beyond the points of conflict inherent in police work. Do you think that is what is happening Detective? She had never answered that question. What need was there? That shooting had solidified her reputation as an officer that was not to be tangled with lightly and that was like gold. She was aware of her looks, she wasn't a fool, and she had needed every tool at her disposal to take the focus off her face and establish a respected position in the precinct. And so if an automatic fight reaction bought that for her then all well and good. 

She could live with that.

It being a natural reaction, didn't mean she wasn't right about a situation, a person. And she was right about Castle and what had to happen, even if it was going to hurt even more than she had realised it would. The image of him lying in the house suddenly came to her again. Icy adrenaline stabbed into her stomach as the memory rose: that look in his eyes when she finally reached him on the floor of the house: bloodied, disconnected, unfocussed, so clearly not-Castle and possibly, mostly likely, having something inside of him going terribly wrong from Baxter's blows. Having to helplessly watch it happen. No. No, it didn't matter why he did it, though she knew she was deliberately shying away from that question, he just couldn't be allowed to be in a situation that had the potential to inspire him to do it again. She couldn't let it happen again. And she would have to see to it that he didn't get the opportunity. She could do that, that was something she had the power to make happen. Then he would go home to his family, his daughter, alive. And he would stay that way. 

The elevator dinged as it lurched to a stop, and moment later the doors juddered open and she was hit with the smell, the sound, the churning motion that was the bullpen. She hesitated for the space of a breath to steady her nerves and push down the lump in her throat that threatened to waive her resolve. She had a job to do. She would do her duty as a police officer. She was going to save a life today, and send a father home to his daughter, a son to his mother, and she was damn well going to do it without the hesitation that would come from within her if she didn't get a grip on herself. Detective Beckett stepped from the elevator and began to walk to her desk.

"Hey Beckett." She hadn't made it three strides before O'Brien called out from his desk where he was surrounded by three more detectives. Three stooges. "So is it true?"

"Is what true Dave?" She asked, pleased to hear the indifferent authority, the all business snap to her voice. And equally pleased that she didn't break stride. Damn the man.

"That Castle's deaf." O' Brien asked, his big booming voice instantly crushing the usual hubbub of the workspace. O'Brien had never been known for his delicacy. And those who hadn't already been staring at her, were absolutely doing so now. "That's what's all over the Net, ain't that right Wikowski?" O'Brien called out across the room.

"It's what everyone's saying." A voice called out. Beckett felt a new flash of anger and cursed that counsellor for being right. 

"What Mr Castle is or is not is his business." She returned, and reached her desk. O'Brien was spoiling for a confrontation. He had been ever since their last altercation months ago. She had shut that one down as well and she would be damned if she wouldn't do it again. And she would be doubly damned if she would let Castle be used by this asshole this way.

"But you'd know right? You and him being all-" 

"Being all what Dave?" She looked up with a jerk of her head, really angry now. And it must have showed in her eyes because the three men standing in their stupid huddle around the seated O'Brien suddenly scattered. She took two strides to get across to her target. He didn't look the least bit phased and greeted her approach with a grin. "Being all what?" She repeated, standing over him.

"You know." He said, tapping his pen on his desk. He shrugged. Grinned. His bushy eyebrows rose in suggestion.

"No, I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" She returned and waited, but he didn't speak again, just grinned. Though she could see his blustery gleam lose its zeal. "That's what I thought. Get back to work Dave." When she turned to go back to her desk, the rest of the bullpen dissembled from their gawping cluster like tenpins in front of a bowling ball. And Wikowski was nowhere in sight which was good luck for him. But she did see some familiar faces staring out from the break room window.

Feeling jumpy with adrenaline, she headed for the room and entered without hesitation. Four startled faces greeted her and she had to put a clamp on her anger or she was going to say something she would later regret. And these people were her friends, her colleagues, her responsibility, and she felt the weight of it all keenly. This was a bad situation. She needed to protect them all as best as she could whilst she did what she knew she had to do. She took a deep controlling breath.  
"Captain Montgomery is on his way." She said after a long pause. "We have about 10 minutes before he gets back to his office."

"What are you going to tell him?" Lanie asked, clearly anxious. Clearly thinking she had a plan to save Castle. She wasn't going to forgive her for this, maybe ever.  
"The truth." She answered carefully, avoiding looking at Castle. "That Castle is deaf, though I think he is already aware of that by now, and that he withheld that information from us leading to a potentially life threatening situation. Namely, his own potential serious injury. Or death. And the potential death or serious injury of the officers participating in the raid." And instantly the room was a cacophony of protest and disbelief. Which she withstood with the same resolve as she had stared down O'Brien. And she eventually found her gaze falling upon the one silent point of calm in the room: Castle. He was staring at her, face like chalk, looking like he'd just been hit. Again. She watched him blink. Watched him swallow her statement down like a dose of medicine he knew had been coming. 

"No." He suddenly spoke, voice rasping over the syllable. He kept his eyes on her. "No, she's right."

"What?" Espo barked.

"She's right." He repeated, still watching her. "I did withhold that information. I did-"

"Castle!" Lanie interrupted. Then she turned to Beckett, to confront her friend. "Are you out of your mind? They'll charge him with -"

"No, they won't." Beckett interrupted this time. "The Captain, the mayor, won't want this becoming some protracted public spectacle. They'll want it to go away as quickly as it can. There won't be any charges."

"But Castle will have to leave." Lanie said.

"Yes. He will." And he'll be alive. Please understand Lanie. Please. 

"You've really put some thought into this haven't you?" Ryan spoke up, voice quiet, disbelieving. Espo was shaking his head in that way her reserved for those who had truly overstepped the mark and it was not lost on her that he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Castle. What the hell had been going on in this room while she was processing Carmichael?

"What else can I do Ryan?" She looked at him directly. She was right. It was killing her, but she was right and she had to stick with what she knew had to be done. What mattered was that Castle was alive, and she was going to keep him that way. "I'm backed into a corner. The Captain, the mayor, have nowhere to go. The press is all over it. The bullpen is no better. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"What you know you have to do." Castle spoke again. "You know, if - if you hadn't said it, I was going to." Kate stared, suddenly floored. In some vague way, she was aware they were all staring, but Castle had all of her attention and she was having trouble processing what she was hearing. How could they still be so in sync, even now, at the end? The shock of it balled up like grief in her throat. "Beckett's right: there's no way out of this. I lied to you. I lied to everyone because I thought I could handle it, and I didn't think through what might eventually happen. So, I - I am going to do what I should have done right from the start. I'll tell the Captain the truth. And, and if he'll let me, I'll leave quietly." 

There was utter silence in the room.

"And you're really ok with that? Castle?" Lanie suddenly spoke. Her voice barely rose above the silence, and maybe because of the quiet in the room Castle didn't miss it.

"No." He said, turning to her. "No, I'm not. But Beckett's right, it's the right thing to do. It's the only thing to do." He nodded at her then, and pressed his lips together in a failed attempt at a smile. She mirrored it back to him and he took a deep breath and winced. His hand shifted to his ribs. " Let's go see the Captain."

End  
Until next chapter, when I promise things are going to start improving!


	9. Chapter 9

Castle walked beside Beckett on the short journey to Captain Montgomery's office. Every footfall dragged. In a handful of minutes his time at the 12th was going to come to an end and he would leave the building; ejected into the media scrum outside to start his new life as that deaf author guy, you know, the one who's deaf. There would be endless hounding by the press. He would be flat out trying to fend them away from Alexis and his mother. Gina would be demanding he do interviews. Chat shows confessionals. Entertainment spots. And one of those daytime biographical movies. Oh. My. God. The pressure of that coming horror show was growing with every movement towards the Captain's office. He felt weighted down with dread.

Right now he could not imagine returning to his old life. Though it wouldn't be his old life. Maybe he should rephrase that: he couldn't imagine returning to a life without the 12th. Without the blurry electric rumble and occasional roar of the bullpen, the bustle of the precinct as they worked the evidence and made the connections; and the jolting thrill of the 5am wakeup call and Beckett's clipped 'we have a body' better than any espresso. And without the unexpected joy at finding a such a kindred spirit in the cop he had been assigned to shadow. It had been the best time of his life if he was honest. And now it was all over. All over. Emotion suddenly swelled in his chest and he stopped. He couldn't walk another step - 

"Beckett-"

"Castle-"

He looked at her, surprised and not surprised that they had spoken at the same time, responding to the same urge, and felt himself swallowed up in the tightly held misery that he saw in her eyes. Where moments ago, she had pushed her way into the break room almost ethereal with that familiar searing diamond-forging ferocity that he had seen melt many a guilty party into a confession, now it was just a brittle hollowed shadowed face that looked just how he felt. 

And then, they both moved at the same time. Exit stage left. Into the nearest storage room. Castle jerked the door shut behind them. It was dark. He fumbled for the light, yanked the cord in an aching hand, and with a flat clack they were bathed in the dim glow of the cheap naked bulb dangling overhead. 

"Beckett, I'm sorry." The words just tumbled out. He watched her take them in, saw the surging flicker of that anger return and he shook his head. "No, no, not like that. Please let me explain. If this is going to be my last day here, if we never see each other again, I have to explain. I should have told you about my hearing the first day we met. I should have, but I didn't because - because I was only thinking about myself and about what I needed from the 12th, from you, and I didn't think beyond that. I don't think I even understood how to think beyond that. 

"I- I've never been part of a team before, and I didn't realise," he paused, searching for a better word, "I didn't understand what being part of one really meant. That any decision of mine could so affect everyone else wasn't something I even contemplated. And for letting you down, for being a thoughtless idiot, because of that, I am truly truly sorry.

"Castle-"

"No, please let me finish. Please." He drew a breath. "This is about more than that though, I know that now. What happened today in that house- I hope you can understand that I couldn't not do what I did."

"Couldn't not Castle? You jumped on a man at least twice your size! What were you thinking?" She interrupted him without warning. The question burst from her lips like it had been pent up there since this morning. Maybe it had. " Why didn't you call out? Castle you are a civilian-" Her voice was thin and raw with memory. And seeing the sudden naked pain in her face felt like a violation, like he should cover his eyes and turn away from something he wasn't supposed to see.   
"I was thinking that there was no time. He was huge Kate. If I hadn't-" He almost choked on his words. "I couldn't- I- Kate." He stopped, clenched his teeth and forced himself to slow down, though the desperation to make himself understood in the scant minutes they had left was making him shiver. "If I had hesitated he would have been on you. And Kate he was huge. He had hands like dinner plates! I was thinking that I had to save you." He waved with both arms, caught up in the moment and both of his damaged hands abruptly connected with a shelf of toner cartridges. Pain like a lightning bolt shot through him and he saw white. Fuck! He yanked his hands back towards his chest.

"something!" And he felt hands on his forearms, pulling. Pain sparkled along his bones. He grunted. Oh fuck that hurt! Then those grasping fingers slid further along his arms, and pulled at his elbows, gentle but insistent, taking the weight of his hands. Someone was talking. Beckett. Oh! 

"- You're ok. You're ok. Try to relax. It's ok. Let me see. Castle?" 

"Oooow." He managed. And Beckett's face suddenly came back into focus. He stared at her as she down at his hands where she still held them close to her with a steady familiar strength. She looked them over until he felt like he was a fragile piece of crime scene evidence, but the touch of her skin against his was nothing short of narcotic. Better than a pain killer. He could barely feel the agony in his hands. "Kate? Do you understand what I am saying? About Baxter. I couldn't do anything else." 

"You shouldn't have been there." He had to strain to hear her, her words were almost too quiet for him to grasp the meaning with her head bent over his hands, and soft tendrils of hair obscuring her face. What? Of course he should have been there.

"Beckett, I'm your partner. Of course I should have been there." He countered.

"You're a civilian observer Castle." She said, looking up at him again. Brittle once more and her fingers curling tight into the bones of his elbows. He wondered if she knew she was doing it?

"Well - no amount of not being a civilian observer was going to stop Baxter this morning." He countered, hurt by her correction. He watched her process what he had said, and saw the tension rise in her again. Watched her lips press together. Watched her short sharp flick of a headshake, held back by corded tendons and tight muscles. 

"You don't understand." She said.

"So help me understand. Beckett please. Talk to me."

"It was my fault." He almost missed the words. What? No. He shook his head. "No, Castle. You've had your turn. Now it's mine." She said quietly, but with the same steely resolve she had used in the break room. He knew better than to fight her when she sounded like that. "It was my fault. You are a civilian Castle. I shouldn't have let you come into the field with us like that. But I did and - Castle-" She stopped and he watched her swallow. He saw the memories crowd in. "You don't know what it was like watching it happen. Knowing that I couldn't get there fast enough to stop that bastard-! Knowing that I was the one who put you there. And afterwards-" Her words choked off, and he felt her hands leave his arms, felt their painful weight become his to bear again, and then she was stepping back though there was hardly any room to move around in here. 

Espo, Ryan, Lanie: they had been right. He'd been such an idiot. 

"Beckett-"

"I can't let it happen again." Was she telling him or herself? "You have to understand Castle, I am not doing this because I like it. I am not getting some perverse thrill out of having you leave. I just can't - I won't - " She stopped again. 

"I meant what I said earlier you know." He told her. "About telling Captain Montgomery everything. About my hearing. About how I lied to everyone, to him too. That's how I was going to fix it. 

"I should never have held back about my hearing. I should have let Gina talk me into telling everyone years ago. But," he paused, considering his next words, " if I had I would probably never have met you. And for that part I can never be sorry." She was staring at him now and he found he couldn't read her expression. He ploughed on. " And I am also not sorry that I stopped Baxter from attacking you. That was my choice. My decision. And I'd do it all again, just the same."   
" I could have stopped you-" She said.

"No, you couldn't."

"I could have ordered you to the back."

"I'd have found my way back to the front."

"I could have ordered you to stay in the car."

"And since when has that ever worked? I have had a free pass to follow you around since the first day I arrived. I know, I read the agreement. You couldn't have stopped me if I wanted in." He watched her internalise that. Hoped she would see it the truth of it in his eyes. 

"You were really going to tell Montgomery? Everything?"

"Everything." He agreed.

"Even if it meant he did terminate the agreement? Really? That was your plan?" She regarded him flatly, cautiously, disbelievingly.

"Well, he'd have to make a recommendation to the Mayor to do that. And I can't deny I would have been hoping that he didn't do it. Or that Bob didn't agree to it." He said ruefully. This room was as tight as a confessional and it seemed to be having that effect on him. He couldn't stop himself. "Look, Kate, I know that you aren't doing this out of spite. You don't have that in you. It's one of the many things I lo- admire about you actually. There's no other way option left than what we are doing. But it has to be we, not just you. I did this. I- " The door suddenly rattled behind his back. "Occupied!" He yelled without thinking. The rattling stopped. Someone said something, but he couldn't make it out. It wasn't important anyway. Their time was running out.

"I guess, I just- wanted you to know. Before we see Montgomery. I wanted you to know that I was sorry for not telling you about my hearing. I wanted you to know that it wasn't your fault what happened. And I am so so sorry for putting you through it all. I thought, I hoped, we could still -"

And suddenly, shockingly, he had his arms full of Kate Beckett. 

One step forward and she was right inside his personal space, almost touching his chest. The fine elegant lines of her face were transformed by a dense urgent tangle of emotion that snatched his breath from his lungs. And her hand, it reached upward, fingers settling in cool gentle lines against his jaw. He couldn't move.. Time felt suspended. He was deaf to everything outside this room. Truly deaf. It was just the two of them in the universe. Then those fingers moved, sliding along his hot skin until they cradled the back of his head, and curling inward pulling him towards her. And he still didn't dare breathe. Their foreheads pushed together. Pressed there. He let out the breath he had been holding. Eye to eye, face to face, their breath mingling hot and humid, it was more intimate than a kiss. And he understood. He understood. And he could see, so did she. It felt like a victory snatched from the devil himself.

And then someone thumped the door again. There was a man's voice that sounded familiar. Rick drew in a breath to yell something angry. He stopped. Stared at her. He knew that look: she knew who it was at the door. He opened his mouth to ask, but Beckett laid a warning finger against his lips and he stopped. His brain stopped. Everything stopped. Her finger against his mouth was suddenly the single most erotic and intimate thing he had ever experienced. But then-

"Is that you in there Castle? Beckett?"

"Montgomery." He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, and only realising only the last syllable that there was a second voice that had joined him. He flicked his eyelids open again, catching Beckett's eye as she pulled away from him, as that finger left his lips. The moment was gone, but he could still feel it pulling at him. He almost fell leaning after her. 

"Open this damn door." The Captain called again and Rick flinched. Oh boy, was he pissed. It was to be expected, but it was still a bit terrifying. Rick twisted around and reached for the knob. He pulled open the door and stuck out his head. And there was Montgomery, cell phone in his hand, looking every bit as intimidating as every single school principal that had ever expelled him, combined. 

"And Beckett?" 

"Here sir." She appeared from behind Rick's shoulder. Oh and they had a crowd watching too. Oh better and better. "Sir, I can explain-"

"Please don't." Their Captain snapped. "My office. Both of you. Now."

Rick tried to ignore the eyes following them as he and Beckett trailed behind their Captain. The march was thankfully a short one and within moments they were inside and the door was shut. He watched Montgomery walk around his desk, drop his cell phone onto it and resume his dour headmasterly aspect. Rick could feel Kate beside him, virtually radiating tension and it was all he could do not to reach out for her hand.

"Well. What a morning I have had with the Mayor." Montgomery began and Castle's heart sank to the floor.

"Sir, I can expla-"

"Can it Castle!'

" Yes sir. Canned."

"So as I was saying, I had my monthly meeting with Mayor Weldon this morning. We discussed the usual things: budget, staffing. And then, and then, one of the Mayor's staffers interrupted our nice quiet meeting with some news, some gossip." Oh no, here it comes. Rick could feel the volcano that was Captain Montgomery start to rumble. "Can you imagine our surprise to hear that our celebrity tag along has just been involved in a serious incident in our fair city which involved no less than one shooting and two hospitalisations? One of them his own. And if that wasn't bad enough, we then hear that this celebrity has been hiding something that, on the face of it, seems to have contributed to the mess that was this morning's incident. And we are hearing it, not from someone within the precinct or the hospital, but from social damn media."

"Sir, if you'll let me, I can explain-"

"I seriously doubt that you can Mr Castle." Oh no, Mr Castle. Mr. "So is it true. Are you deaf?"

"Yes." 

"I don't believe it."

"He is sir." Beckett chipped in and earned herself a Look.

"You knew about this?"

"Only after the aforesaid, rumoured, incident." Rick interjected. His words scurried together in a nervous string. "Not before that. She didn't- she didn't ahem know. I didn't tell -" He stopped. The glare was too bright.

"If I hadn't already has the preliminary report faxed over to me at the Mayor's office, I wouldn't need much to tell me the part about the hospitalisation was true as well." Montgomery carried on, sweeping a critical eye from Rick's scuffed too big shoes to his dishevelled hair. "What are you doing out of hospital anyway? On second thoughts, I don't want to know that either. But I don't expect to be receiving any medical bills from you." Rick shook his head. He'd already signed that right away months ago. Damn good thing he was rich.

The Captain stopped then, and a long tight sigh flared his nostrils. Here it comes, here it comes. Rick braced for the blow.

" You are one lucky sonnavabitch Castle."

"What? - wait, what?" Rick blinked at the other man. Montgomery regarded him for a long disapproving second.

"What?" Rick's head whipped around as Kate spoke, then back to the Captain again.

"After our meeting was interrupted, it ended. The Mayor's people had to go into damage control. As you can imagine, the idea that the Mayor of New York City, in his election year, had potentially colluded with a celebrity with apparently serious medical issues to ride with some of this city's finest law enforcement, in the field and into a shooting no less, might give his political enemies some fodder. Once his office and ours, verified the gossip as fact, serious decisions had to be made. and fast. And it was decided, against my wishes I might add, that the best way forward was - business as usual." Rick's head was spinning, he couldn't think straight. Was the Captain saying what he thought he was saying?

"I- I think I need to sit-" Rick managed to get out as his legs started to fold under him. And onto a chair that suddenly appeared under him. Kate's hands were back, gripping his shoulders, squeezing. He leaned into her and she was there, pushing back to keep him upright. 

"Sir," Beckett spoke from above him. She was shocked, he could hear that. And relieved. She was relieved. He felt like dancing. "Are you saying that the Mayor has decided that Castle stay with the 12th?"

"He has." Montgomery sounded like he was chewing gravel now. Clearly he really wasn't on board with this. "And in fact, if Castle values his future in this city, he will."

"I don't understand." Kate said. 

"I do." Rick found his voice. He watched Montgomery as he spoke, reading everything he could glean from face, body language, voice. "The Mayor can't back down. It's an election year. He could cancel the agreement and have me kicked out of the 12th, but if he does then he looks either guilty of conspiracy with a rich medically unfit celebrity to gain access to law enforcement which has now resulted in a shooting and that could have ended with loss of life; or, worse, that he was duped into allowing said medically unfit celebrity to mingle with the NYPD, which makes him look like a narcissistic sap more concerned with showing off his connections than protecting this fair city and the men and women who actually protect it. Either way he's screwed. If I stay on, there's a chance he can make this all go away."

"Spin." Kate sounded disgusted. But then, politics did disgust her routinely.

"Mmh." Castle nodded at her. "He spins it to look like the medically unfit celebrity is the hero of the hour, rides out the detractors with some sort of - oh no." Rick stopped. He felt his jaw go slack. He stared at Montgomery. "Oh no. No."

"Oh yes Mr Castle. Oh yes." Montgomery almost looked tickled at Rick's growing horror as he realised what was coming.

"OK, Sir, Castle. You've lost me."

"What do you give a hero, Detective Beckett?" Montgomery prompted Kate, and Rick suddenly wanted to find a box and hide in it.   
"Oh no." Beckett had grasped it. And he felt the hands on his shoulders tighten. Ow. Ow. "No, sir. You can't be serious? The Mayor can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am serious. And so is the Mayor. And so Mr Castle, apart from my suspending your involvement with the 12th until you recover from your injuries, I suggest that you take that time to think of a suitable acceptance speech. That shouldn't be too hard for someone of your literary talents." 

"Oh no, sir, please." Rick squirmed out from under Beckett's crushing grip. "You have to do something."

"It's already been decided Castle. It's out of my hands."

"Then I'll quit."

"You can't. You'll be finished in this city. You know the Mayor might be a fan of yours, but I would be careful if I were you: he is first and foremost a politician. And an ambitious one."

Oh my god. Rick glanced up at Beckett, but she was unreadable. 

There was a knock at the door. Esposito put his head in, eyes round, his entire being radiating his unease as he looked around the room.

"Ah, sorry to interrupt. I need Detective Beckett."

"Sir, may I-" Beckett queried, and was let go from the room with a nod from Montgomery. Once the two detectives had gone, the Captain picked up a file.

"Sir, what if I were to just not recover from my injuries? Then I couldn't return, for a very very long time. And then Bob- the Mayor wouldn't need to go ahead with the uh, uh-"

"No, he's pretty set on it Castle."

"Crap."

"Indeed. You know maybe you should have used that creative mind of yours to think about what might happen if you lie to the police. Before you actually did the lying."

There was silence. Montgomery read his file. Castle fidgeted and tried not to look out of the window towards Beckett's desk. A minute seemed to tick by.  
"You know, you don't seem too shocked about my uh hearing."

"I have a cousin who is deaf. You'd never know it to talk to her. And I am a veteran with over 20 years on this job. Just about nothing surprises or shocks me anymore."

"Ookay."

"Ok, now Castle you're stalling. I suggest you man up and leave my office, and go find yourself a ride home. I'll be needing your input in the final report and I will be needing it yesterday."

And so Rick inched out of the Captain's office and eyed Beckett's desk, which was thankfully empty. Oh god this day was going to kill him. He started towards the elevator. Maybe he could use Lanie's phone to call his mother? He hunched his shoulders against the whispering and staring and walked. He forced his tired legs to eat up the floor as fast as possible, but then he caught a snatch of a voice as he made it to the break room and almost sagged to the floor with relief. Lanie. He wouldn't have to go hunting for her around the building.

"Lanie, I-" He spoke as he opened the door, and stopped as he came face to face with Ryan, Epsosito, Lanie and Kate. They stared. He stared back. Oh no. Oh no.   
"Beckett just told us you're getting some sort of hero award for this morning." Epso said, face like flint. "That right?"

"Oh, oh that. I well-"

"How the hell did you swing that?" Ryan put in. It sounded like an accusation. And Lanie just raised her eyebrows at him. Kate didn't even turn around from where she was at the coffee machine.

"Oh come on guys." His tired brain, running on nothing but adrenaline now he was sure, was scrambling. "Now- Who's that laughing? Beckett?"

And she was. Shoulder's shaking, head bobbing up and down. The peels of giggles sounded like church bells to his tired ears. Was that a snort? And that started them all off. Every single one of them. And Rick couldn't think anymore and it must have showed because the next second Lanie had an arm around him and was him pushing him back to that couch. He sat down, heavily.

"You're not mad." He said stupidly to Lanie over the giggling insanity that was the break room.

"Oh no honey. Kate told us all about it." And she started it as well. Big open giggles. "It's just too damn funny."

"Oh man. The look on your face!" Ryan's hand landed on his shoulder. "Welcome back to the 12th man." He slapped Rick's shoulder again. Rick tried not to wince. "Come on Javi, let's go do some real police work. Maybe, if we're really good the Mayor will give us a big shiny gold sticker too. Oh man, that's going to keep me going all day." And he and Javi headed out of the door, still giggling.

"Yeah well," Rick shot back, floundering for a good come back whilst still reeling over what was going on. "You know - you - you laugh like a pair of goats." Espo flipped him the bird as we went and didn't even turn around to do it.

"Oh, oh, well that's me out of here too." Lanie spoke up next. "I still expect to see you with that apology though Castle. And my expensive perfume." And then she was gone in a cloud of giggles and he was left with Beckett.

"That wasn't funny Beckett." He humphed as she sat down beside him, cradling a coffee in her hands.

"Well, from where I was standing it was pretty funny." He could see her eyes laughing at him over the steaming rim of the mug. It was the prettiest sight he never thought he would see again. "And you did sort of bring it on yourself."

"Yeah." He let his head roll back to lie against the back of the couch. "I guess I did." He touched her knee, ghosting over the denim. "So, uh, are we good. Um, I mean better. Than. Better than before? Anyway?" He stumbled over the words and watched her incline her head, her features blurring slightly in the vapour rising from that unbelievably awesome smelling coffee, as she considered his words.

"Working on it." She said eventually. He smiled.

End

OK, that is not actually the end. Another chapter is coming.


	10. Chapter 10

Hello everyone. Another chapter. Yes indeedy. Sorry it's been a bit long in the making, but I have been struggling with it a bit. Real life and real issues crafting it how I wanted with constant interruptions. But now it seems to be done. And of course, it's not yet the final chapter because I have realised that it didn't want to end just yet.

Thank you to everyone who has continued to read this fic. You are all awesome! A big shout out to Shutterbug5269 for the heads up on some info that I should have been aware of. I hope that I have done some justice to the catch and the ongoing conversation we have been having about what to do about it. Nervous....

Anyway, I hope you like this one. The next chapter will take a few days due to real life intervening as always. Thank you all once again for sticking with me. 

V  
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In the break room, Kate had given Castle her cell phone whilst she and her coffee had returned to Captain Montgomery's office to ask permission to take the writer home. She would have preferred he return to the hospital, but he had begged her outright not to take him there. She couldn't blame him for that. She wasn't a huge fan of hospitals either, and what was likely now waiting for him outside the doors of the 12th made going anywhere but the safety of home unthinkable really. So she had agreed to take him home if Montgomery would release her. That way she could be sure he would get there and be safely delivered into Martha and Alexis' hands. But first, she knew her part of the conversation with the Captain had been cut short by Espo's interruption and he would be expecting her return.

And he was.

She had barely tapped the door with her knuckles before she heard his curt: "Come!"

"Sir..." She spoke as she entered the room. Montgomery was sitting at his desk, pen in hand, files open, laptop open. All business. Kate tried to keep the edginess out of her voice, her body language, as she waited for him to look up. 

"Ah, Detective Beckett. Castle gone home?" Her Captain spoke, finally making eye contact with her.

"No sir. If you could spare me I was going to drive him home myself." She said. "Esposito and Ryan have things under control and Louis Carmichael has asked for a lawyer before we interview him. We have about an hour before she arrives."

"Carmichael?"

"The uh new suspect in the Baxter case, sir. It looks like Baxter wasn't calling the shots as well as making them. It looks like that honour lies with Carmichael, Baxter's lawyer. Or whomever is controlling Carmichael. It looks like this goes much further than we thought. " She watched Montgomery's eyebrows rise, and tried not to white knuckle her coffee cup. 

"I see. That makes things more - interesting." He said calmly, but the gleam in his eye was unmistakeable. It would be a point back in his favour if the Captain had something juicy to put into his next report for the Mayor. God, she hated politics. "Good work Detective."  
"Actually sir, it was Castle who put the pieces together." 

"Castle." Montgomery repeated, nodding thoughtfully. He dropped his pen to the desk top. "Yes, we were interrupted about the Castle incident. Where is he now?"  
"Break room. He's calling ahead to the loft, trying to arrange a discrete entry to his building."

"Good luck with that."

"Yeah." She felt her tongue stick on the word and Montgomery pursed his lips.

"OK Detective. This morning. Tell me what happened."

Tell me what happened. And just how to do that? The morning had been nothing short of one of the most harrowing of her career and he was asking her to put it out in there, right now, in a rundown that would later mirror her report. How could she do that? The tangled up, complicated mess that was the raid and its aftermath, and the Mayor's surprise reaction, had her so unprepared for this inevitable and predictable question from her boss that she was unable to answer him. At least not right away.

"Sir, before we go into this morning's raid, may I ask about Mayor Weldon's decision to keep Castle attached to the 12th?"

"You may not."

"Sir!" Kate couldn't help the flare of anger in her voice; the control she had over her frayed nerves was wearing thin. She had thought she had lost her partner twice this morning, had been steeling herself to help the wheels turn to have him removed from the precinct for his own safety, and she couldn't bring herself to even touch upon the intense moment they had shared in the stationary cupboard right now. She was exhausted. Edgy. She'd even giggled like a damn kid in the break room, the stress of the day destroying any attempt she made to hold it together as the others decided the Mayor award was so hilarious they needed to prank Castle. And on top of that, though she felt that she and Castle were inching towards a place where she could perhaps work with him to prevent future incidents like this morning, she was not that far from removed from her original position: to keep Castle alive against his better judgement. And so to have any hope of protecting him ripped from her with the stroke of a politician's pen without even being able to ask why, was purely and simply outrageous. Her anger, her instinct to fight, flared and pushed at the threads of her tattered self-possession. "Sir, Mayor Weldon's office may have a firm grip on the pulse of the city's media, but some sound bite confirmations from someone who probably wasn't even there this morning, does not give him the right to make arbitrary decisions about someone's life! Castle-"

"Detective Beckett!" Montgomery stood to his full height behind his desk. "I will remind you to watch what you say. The Mayor's office have made their decision based upon sound advice, and relied upon credible witnesses to confirm this morning's events. However, they also have to take into account a number of considerations that perhaps those from outside his office may find difficult to understand or accept. As I said earlier, this is an election year, with all the machinations and devices that go with it. And what Castle did, withholding his condition and apparently flinging himself in between you and a very very large, very very angry man, yes I have more information than you might think Detective, has put the election campaign into a very difficult position."

"The campaign-" Kate almost choked on the word.

"Yes Detective, the campaign. What Castle has done is put the spotlight on himself, his relationship with the Mayor, the conduct of this precinct and your own judgement." He said, and Kate winced. "You took a civilian, the famous Richard Castle no less, into a police action that appears to have nearly cost him is life. You allowed him to participate despite the fact that he has no training to do so and no one, as far as I can fathom, was assigned to him during the operation."

"Sir," Kate reacted without thinking, going on the defensive. "You know that Castle has accompanied myself and my team on numerous actions in the field before without-"

"Has he?" Montgomery said, looking deliberately obtuse. "Oh, even better. He has been put in the firing line on multiple occasions!"

"Sir, that's not how-" And she suddenly understood: he was letting her vent and showing her where that was going to get her, but still- "What are you getting at? That if I push to have Castle benched, to protect him, that the fallout is going to come back on us, on me?"

"Beckett, the fallout from this is going to come back on everyone, from every angle. There's even talk of a lobby group, a deaf citizens of New York activist group, that is going to take action against the City, against the Precinct, against you and I, for failing in our duty of care under the Americans with Disabilities Act."

"What?"

"Castle is deaf. If the Mayor's office makes a move to remove him they can argue that the primary motivation is discriminatory. As it is we are going to be audited to make sure that we can and will accommodate his needs to ensure his safety and his fair and equitable treatment whilst he is at this station."

"But Castle didn't tell anyone in this precinct, or the Mayor. And anyway, his hearing is not the entire story."

"Doesn't matter. As I said: this is an election year."

"Sir -"

"Beckett." He interrupted, but the fire had gone out of his eyes. "Look, I know it's part of you to want to protect those around you, both in and out of uniform. It's part of what makes you a great cop. But what is going on here has very little to do with being a good Detective, a good person, and a lot to do with smoothing the political waters as fast, and as with as few waves, as possible. And that means that Castle has to stay: right where he is. With you."

Kate stared at Montgomery, pursed her lips. 

"What if I don't want him in the field with me anymore." 

"That could be difficult to accommodate right now, Detective." Montgomery said. "But," and he sighed. " I think we might be able to get a little creative around the edges of his agreement with the City, if we are discrete about it." He held up an index finger as Beckett nodded. "Very discrete." 

"Understood." Kate felt the weight lift from her shoulders. The political powers that be had rendered any objections she had to Castle's continuing presence moot, but perhaps it would still be possible to reshape his involvement in the field? The supply cupboard conversation had changed things for her, for them both, but she could not ever consider his safety as second to satisfying his enthusiasm for their work. There had to be a way to manoeuvre through the political wagon circle that had sprung up around the Mayor and his political allies. If there was, she would find it.

"I hope so Detective. The last thing we need is a lawsuit right now." Montgomery went on, and then paused and she recognized that look. What had he picked up upon? "You said that Castle's hearing was only part of the issue this morning? I think you had better sit down and fill me in on this other part." He sat down himself as Kate scrambled for words. Sometimes Montgomery was just too sharp. She followed him down to sit in her own chair.

"Castle." She said, and paused. Considering. "He thinks he's seen what we do, what he thinks we do, and that there is no reason why he can't join in."

"In this instance it was to protect you, an officer of the law, when you were in need of help."

"Exactly."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He - Well, he- I- He thinks he's Dirty Harry, sir. He thinks he's seen all our moves and he can just, just join in."

"And he can't-?"

"Yes, I mean no, no he can't. What happened this morning was that he was nearly killed, trying to - trying to protect m- an officer of the law when he should have stayed out of it."

"Which is why the Mayor wants to give him a medal. And don't look at me like that Detective. I know what nearly happened this morning, and you are having a tough time with it. I can see that. But that's what people do in life, whether they wear a uniform or not, they make decisions to protect one another when the situation calls for it."

"But-"

"But nothing. What Castle did this morning was to make a decision to protect someone when it was needed. It was a damn brave thing to do. I know: I've seen Baxter. Now that someone that Castle made a decision to protect happened to be you." He looked her pointedly. "And I know just how much that gets under your skin. I do. But that man saved your bacon today, possibly your life, and that is a hellava thing to swallow down. I understand what you are going through, better than you might think. But that is for you to deal with. You and Castle. And I suggest that you do deal with it because he's going to be around this place for a while yet."

"Sir." Kate acknowledged his words, feeling like she'd just been ambushed and shown up all at the same time. Damn the man...   
"Now, Castle needs to go home. And you need to be back in one hour to interview Carmichael. Dismissed Detective."

 

CastleCastleCastleCastleCastle CastleCastleCastleCastleCastle CastleCastleCastleCastleCastle   
Castle was just about asleep. 

Finally.

Kate snatched a glance at him as she turned their car away from the 12th and blended them into the traffic; anonymous and innocuous, just another vehicle in a river of many. All the cameras and reporters were left far behind them, at last. Beside her Castle was hunched into his seat, his broad frame filling the cramped space and his knees pressing against the glove compartment, watching as the city rolled passed them. And he was starting to drift with the quiet rumble of the car. She could see it in the slow nod of his head; in the relaxing of his bruise stained jaw; and in how his unbroken hand had started to release its clench to lie curled now in his lap. In a few more minutes he would be out. And after the near riot of their escape from the precinct, she was relieved for him. 

The number of reporters and camera crews that had been waiting for them as they left the station had been truly staggering. And truly awful. A sea swell of human greed that slammed into them, and like a roaring wave it rocked into their car and broke over it. And oh my god, the noise of it. The calling, shouting and blows to the windows, the roof, calling for Castle to come out, for her to stop the car. Instantly she had been reminded of that zombie movie cliché: hordes of slavering mindless creatures descending upon a victim's car, swarming and swarming until the long camera pull back reveals the vehicle vanishing under a mass of Undead - never to be seen again. Swallowed up. Gone. In the thunderous rush of the moment as she hunched over the steering wheel slowly pressing the car through the hard fought for human corridor of straining unis, and above her anger, she had felt the pull of it, that unconscious pause in her thinking as she waited for him to make those same cinematic connections and start cracking apocalypse movie jokes. With the both of them starring as the leads of course. 

But it didn't happen. 

And when she looked over at him, she could see why. God... She didn't think she had ever seen Richard Castle cower before. But there was no mistaking that that was what he was doing. He was a big man, tall and broad shouldered, and was forever annoying her by taking up more space than seemed polite. It was a routine frustration of their driving around together that he routinely got his knee in the way of the gear stick, thumped into her if he leaned even a little towards the driver's seat (which he was wont to do in moments of excitement), and smacked his head on the door getting in and out of the car. But now... Now, all of that big burly presence had shrunk down to fit neatly inside the confines of his car seat as he curled into himself, back arched against the door, splinted hand up as if warding off a blow to the back of his head. It was so completely shocking to see that for a moment Kate nearly choked on the sight and the car jerked to one side as she clenched the wheel. It was the body language of someone who had had enough; everything was defensive and in retreat. Losing ground and knowing it. Exhausted. Spent. And behind him, framed in the car window, the noise and the press of distorted faces and camera lenses, just kept on hunting him and hunting him as if they could smell the end was near.

"Castle!" She called out. He didn't react. Of course- She pulled hand from the wheel and reached out to grab his knee. His hand instantly came down on top of hers, gripping so tightly she felt her bones creaking. She bore it without moving away and pressed down harder herself feeling the muscle and bone of him resisting the grasp of her fingers. And it was worth the pain, because he finally looked up to find her face, but now with eyes that showed that he was beyond compensating for his hearing loss. He didn't even track near her lips and instead roved unsteadily over her face. She watched him take fast shallow breaths. And so she learned something else terrible and new: that when Castle was exhausted that incredible ability of his to co-ordinate all his senses to compensate for his hearing just unravelled like so much fraying cloth. And so she put it all into her eyes, in to the grit of her teeth, the hard planes of her face. It's ok. Its fine. Just hang on. Hang on to me. This was them. Together. They would be ok. It was almost over. He watched her steadily, and then squeezed his eyes shut. 

Kate had pressed down on the gas then, using the flare of the engine's roar as a warning to the uniforms outside the car that she was getting impatient. The car throbbed under them, rearing up as she stayed on the brake. And then the unis were winning the battle, the crowds were parted by force and she released the brake and eased back on the gas. And they were moving. She kept her hand on his knee. He didn't let her go. 

Castle didn't let go of her hand until well after they had lost sight of the flashing cameras and shouting reporters, and even then it was only a lessening of the crushing grip he had on her. And eventually she was the one who had to pull free, to have both hands on the wheel to avoid crashing into a parked car that suddenly cut in front of them. They drove on until they were stopped by traffic lights. And she took the opportunity to check on him again. He was stilled curled towards her, but now it was more of a slump than a rigid bending of spine and limbs. He was staring out of the front window, his face in deepening lines of pain and fatigue.

"Castle-" She started, before remembering how futile her voice was right now. Right. Touch then. She reached over once more, this time feathering her fingers against his hot cheek, trying not to startle him. It worked and it caught his attention. "OK?" He watched her dully for a long second and she let her fingers settle along his jaw, lightly covering some of the bruises there. Her thumb smoothed along the unblemished skin along his cheekbone. A ghost of a smile touched his lips in reflex. 

"Had better days." He said finally.

"Yeah." She gave a tired faint smile. "Me too." 

"Sorry."

She shook her head, dismissing his apology. "Don't be." She whispered, pleased that his gaze dipped this time to catch her voice on her lips. And she surprised herself that she truly meant it. "Let's get you home."

End  
But of course not the end of the fic! The next chapter will find Beckett, Castle and other back at the loft and in a much better place than they were.


	11. Chapter 11

After breaking through the media scrum around the precinct, the rest of the ride back to Rick's loft was quiet. Just the rumble of the car's engine filling his ears and Beckett's very serious profile in his direct line of sight. Her gaze was steely, mouth fixed in a dour line, staring down the road like a guilty suspect in Interview. The sight was an odd mix of intimidating and calming in its familiarity, it's very routineness. Because no matter the occasion, Kate Beckett always drove so very seriously. So much so it could be a very grim and severe experience riding shotgun with her, he knew, but there was also such a degree of awesome in it that he gladly weathered the chipped irritation in her commands to sit back in his seat, get his knee out of her gearstick, and stop shouting when she was right freaking next to him, because Beckett was just a natural born driver. Even when it was chaos in the street chasing down a suspect at huge and terrifying speeds, inside Beckett's vehicle it was always calm and controlled. She was purposeful, graceful and precise even under the most intense pressure, and she just knew where her cruiser was on the road, amongst the traffic, the way a cat knows just where its body is and needs to be as it navigates the family mantelpiece without dislodging a single ornament or photo frame. And she was utterly relentless in a pursuit, pushing her vehicle to the very edge of its design capacity, but the way she made it look so meditative in its effortlessness was just so freaking awesome. Like a zen master.

Like a total badass.

And so Nikki Heat drove like that too. Because Beckett did. Such was the privilege of writing fiction, and he was taking that as licence to make it so. And anyway it was so cool, how could let his heroine drive any other way? So Rick rested his head against his seat and watched Beckett drive, studying her, letting his mind wander through descriptive prose that might end up colouring future driving scenes of Nikki's. Wander was the word though. His tired mind couldn't seem to hold a constructive thought at the moment. He felt fractured and useless, unable to focus for more than a second on anything, let alone the literary. All his thoughts, such as they were, just kept settling like falling leaves back down into the truth that was how incredible Beckett was. And she was. Really. But rather than float in that thought, he kept trying to find his way back into the words, because it was useful to distract himself from how physically and emotionally drained he was. And how much he was hurting. And the embarrassment he felt at how overwhelmed he had become as they faced and fled the media back at the 12th.

He hadn't meant to breakdown like that. And certainly not in front of Beckett. 

He watched her suddenly change gear: one slim hand dipping to find the stick and press her fingers behind it, guiding it into the next gear with such a light touch it was more like she was showing it the way than actually moving it around. Kick. Ass. 

And so he had flipped out a little bit back at the 12th. But she had found him like she always did, without judgement or question, pulling him along with her out of harm's way. He could still feel the dig of her fingers over his knee, each point like an anchor. And he hadn't been able stop himself grabbing onto that lifeline, holding on way too tight he was sure though she didn't complain. He clutched at her in sheer stupid relief. Exhaustion, pain, and the shock of a morning that had turned his world upside down and shaken it half to death had scattered his thoughts, unravelled his control, and the crushing melee of reporters and camera crews slamming into the door behind him had felt like the final push off the cliff. Until she offered him her hand and, as he looked up at her, some her strength of will as well, and not a small measure of warmth. And he wasn't ashamed to say he'd taken that as well as he started to try to pull himself out of the tail spin he'd fallen in to. Because in that moment he had realised something far more important than his dented pride:

They were still partners. 

That hand on his knee, that intensity of feeling in her invitation to hold on to her, to take what he needed from her- They were still partners. He had felt in the ferocity of that grip that they were still they not just because Montgomery and the Mayor said it had to be so, but because Beckett herself still felt it, wanted it. And so it also meant that the conversation in the stationary cupboard, amongst the paper clips and toner cartridges, had meant as much as he thought it had. She did understand. She might not like his choices and what had happened because of them, that was fairly clear, but she did understand. God... Thank you Lanie, Espo and Ryan for setting him down the right path; for making him see what was really at the root of her anger, her distress. And so they were still partners, were going to be into the future as well he could see. And not just on paper. The relief was excruciating, overwhelming, exhausting. He had had to eventually shut his eyes, squeeze the lids against the swell of emotion in his throat, though he hadn't relinquished his crushing grip on her hand.

And later on, when the media hunt was fading far behind them her long slim fingers had settled along his cheek. Her skin was soft and cool against his, like silk, and the sweet burn of even that light contact made his head swim and dragged his sleep heavy mind willingly back to the world. He had apologized again then, and she had told him not to be sorry. And she meant it. He heard it in her voice. And so, though he knew there were things still to be said between them, it was clear that Beckett not only understood, but she had forgiven him too. 

Partners.

Now they were travelling, as fast as Beckett could wend them through the tangle of cars, cabs, people and streets. And after that, Eduardo the Magnificent Doorman, would smuggle them into his building through the secret back of the back entrance (which Eduardo had refused to ever reveal to him - until now. Squee!). Them: he and Beckett. Because they were partners. Still. And then, up to his loft and his daughter and his mother and the glorious hospital medication that would take this excruciating ache from his broken hand and bruised ribs and the throb out of his temples, a shower, some food. Sleep. Bliss. So he rested himself as best he could in the cramped passenger seat, slumping strategically to take as much pressure off his ribs as possible whilst still finding the right spot to lay his aching head. And he was managing it. Sort of. With his knees resting against the glove compartment and his torso on a lean, he was able to brace himself against the few dips and judders of the car that Beckett couldn't avoid and distract himself searching for words to describe the brilliance that was his partner. 

CASTLECASTLECASTLECASTLECASTLE CASTLE

Cold.

Too cold.

A chilled breeze slid across Rick's entire body, finding every gap in his clothing and cruelly forcing him awake. Damn it. He shivered. Quilt fallen off. Yes. Quilt. Quilt gone. He reached out, searching. Must. Find. Warm- Hand? What? And he opened his eyes with a jerk of his head.

"Wha- Ow!" Pain lanced across stiffened muscles and his ribs and hand immediately started throbbing. "Beckett? What's - Where are we?" He scrambled for the right connections: car, Beckett's car, going home, Beckett right here, where is here?, oh...

"Castle?" Beckett was crouched in the open door of the car, right in his line of sight, her face pinched though her voice was infused with a quiet warmth. The incongruity grabbed his attention - such as his attention was at the moment anyway, because he was still feeling fuzzy and not quite awake. And that cool breeze was bringing him out in distracting prickling shivers. He blinked at her, trying to reconcile the tight look in her face against the gentle tone of her voice and coming up blank. 

"I'm ok. Must fallen asleep. Sorry." His voice rasped free from his sleep deadened throat. "What's happened? Are we there?" 

"Yes, we're here." She said, her voice low enough that he was glad she had thought to sit right close to him where he could see her lips. As she spoke she reached for him, getting a hand under his arm, tugging at him. 

"And what else? What's wrong? You look - uncomfortable?" He asked. She raised an eyebrow at him, not releasing his arm. "Well, I know you don't like the word 'stressed, so-"

"It's nothing. Just had an interesting little detour to lose a particularly zealous paparazzi. Seriously Castle, being this famous is not good for your health." He let her pull him from the car without pressing further. There was more to it than what she was letting on, but right now he was too tired, to flaky, and just too damn sore to do much more than concentrate on moving wherever she directed him. So he went with the pull until he was up and out and realised that they were parked deep inside a shady alleyway no more than three paces from a worn green door in the far wall. Ah ha. The secret back of the back entrance of legend. I can't believe I am finally going to see it! And then that door was opening, stiffly, little flicks of stiff curled green tearing free in a silent shower of paint dust. Rick felt his heart rate increase as the door swung outwards:

"This is so cool." He breathed to no one, too thrilled to move. He felt Kate shift beside him, her hand still on his arm.

"Detective Beckett? Mr Castle?" A familiar man's voice, deep and clear, spoke as a familiar head emerged and swivelled in their direction. "Ah, but you look as awful as I thought you might."

"Eduardo!" Rick greeted Eduardo with a smile as he stepped from that green door. The older man was looking at him in grave concern, his face taking on a slightly blanched look as he ran his gaze over Rick's face. And Rick felt himself responding to the alarm he saw, trying to erase the tight creases around the doorman's eyes, with an automatic frivolous return serve: "Tis nothing but a scratch."

"Your mother has told me everything." Eduardo looked at him, scanned him feet to scalp, his face in sceptical lines. Castle grinned at him, eyebrows rising.  
"Mother exaggerates." 

" If you could smile with your entire face, rather than just the one side, I might believe you. Now, please come this way before those leeches find out where you are and we lose this private entry forever." He turned back to the door way with a sweeping gesture that they should follow. "Those excuses for human beings have been plaguing my door for an hour already. Blocking my residents. Stopping the couriers. Trying to look like my couriers to sneak inside. Trying trick me into gossiping about one of my residents! Pah!"

"They'd never get past you my friend." Rick stepped forward, eager to get a look inside the door, but was brought up short by Beckett's hand on his bicep. He turned towards her as Eduardo hurried back to the green door.

"He doesn't seem surprised about - He knows?" She asked, brows arched like arrows at him. "About the-" And she gestured to her own ears.

"Hearing? Yes." Rick said. 

"Oh." She said blandly, watching the older man as he pulled open the door and looked back at them expectantly. Castle searched her face, months of study letting him easily reading what he saw there, and, oh-

"Eduardo. He. Well. I mean, he's like family." He said, feeling the words just tumbling out of him. "Not that you and the 12th aren't like family. To me. It's just that he's been around longer. Like an Uncle. An old old Uncle who- answers our door. A lot. I'm making a mess of this aren't I?"

"Mmhmm. But, OK, makes sense." 

"Really? Because its nothing. Really." 

"OK."

"Because I had to tell him after we moved in and I lost a very very expensive pair of state of the art hearing aids somewhere in the lobby after a very very interesting, very very hot evening with a former gymnast -"

"Castle! Nothing really starting to becoming something now."

"Right."

And through the green door of legend.

Which turned out to be a total let down as they walking into a simple grey corridor, not even a very long one, that terminated in a plain grey door, that in turn lead straight into another short bland corridor and to another door that opened into the lobby of his building. And straight into the line of fire of a dozen cameras and that calling crowd that were only blocked from entering by a wall of glass and metal and a coded entry pad. The three of them hustled across the tiled floor with Eduardo positioning himself between Rick and Beckett and the unwanted attention. Given that Rick was more than head and shoulders over the top of the older man it didn't block the view the paparazzi got as they hurried through the exposed space of the lobby, but the nobility of the gesture was humbling. This was his building, his people, and he would defend them in any way he could, even if they had brought it on themselves. Even if it meant all the man could do was stand between his people and the world outside. And he was going to be called upon to do just that over and over in the coming weeks. He would do it too because Eduardo was a one in a million guy. Rick felt a new well of guilt rise up inside him. 

Then they were at the elevator doors and his doorman was pressing the button. The light flashed slowly indicating a decent to the ground floor. He watched it pulse. Too slow. Come on. Come on! And all the while behind him camera's flashed and he caught snatches of voices calling, for him no doubt, but he did not turn around. Instead he hunched his shoulders, trying to hide himself without being too obvious about it and inviting yet more images to hit the web of him cowering behind an old man and a police officer. Shit. Beckett suddenly squeezed her fingers around his arm where, he now realised, she had never relinquished her hold. The press of her fingers through the cloth went a little way to soothing his nerves, but behind him the damn media mob was still in his peripheral vision along with the flares and sparks of their cameras. And though there was at least 20 feet between them and those cameras, and a wall of glass as well, it still felt as oppressive and intrusive as if they were right at his back. 

Where was the damn elevator?

And suddenly there was second hand on his arm, sliding around his forearm, and the length of Beckett's body pressing into his side. It was a quiet, subtle movement. Something that, on this angle, the cameras and roving gossip hungry eyes would not be able to see. It was just for them. For him. He pushed back, just enough to let her know how much he appreciated her presence, and felt an answering squeeze of her fingers. He didn't need to to see her face to understand the message. Partners. Still. And the tension that had been squeezing at his back, his neck, relaxed its hold as the elevator finally arrived with a ding and the doors lurched open. Eduardo hung back, his hand holding the doors at bay for them to enter.

"Eduardo, did Alexis and my mother make it inside before the press got here?" He asked, as he entered and turned back around.

"There were a few already here Mr Castle, but your ladies are formidable women." The doorman responded with a smile that was infused with admiration and aimed right at him, intending perhaps to reassure. But that wasn't really the answer Rick had been hoping for and he couldn't return it. Instead, visions of leering men and women, and the sword thrust of a camera in his daughter's face, jostling his mother, balled up in his chest and throat. He had to get up to them. Now.  
"I'll speak with the 12th about a security detail Eduardo." Beckett spoke up from beside him. "See what we can do about clearing the front of the building. Does the body corporate for these premises have a private security arrangement at all?"

"They do. I have notified our people." Eduardo nodded, "But the presence of some of our city's finest would be faster and would be appreciated, Detective. Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Happy to help." Beckett said, releasing one hand from Rick's arm and fishing her cell phone out of her pocket to thumb up the contact details that would link her straight to Esposito. Eduardo nodded again, a smile on his face. Nothing would make him happier than having his building back under his control again. Then the older man stepped back and the doors slid closed. And Rick let out a long exhalation as Beckett spoke to the Precinct.

"They will be here within the half hour." Beckett suddenly said and Rick realised he had been death staring the slow, slow, too slow flashing arrow that told him they were moving at a far too leisurely pace up to the loft. He looked down at her as she tucked the cell back into her pocket.

"Thank you." He said. For everything. He watched Beckett catch his subtext, without looking at him, and duck her head like she did when unexpected words of gratitude slid past her schooled defences. And on everyone of those occasions, he was reminded that Detective Kate Beckett did not do appreciation well. But he left the words hanging between them, left them there to settle and sink right in because she needed to hear them. And he needed to say them. And it was nice to know that sometimes, just sometimes, he had some control over himself around her, enough to know when it was the right time to shut up. 

"Like I said." She said after a moment, and he could hear the smile. "Happy to help." 

The elevator stopped. 

He was home.

CastleCastleCastleCastle

"Dad!"

"Richard!"

Alexis and his mother bailed him up just inside the door to the loft (which smelled heavenly with a perfume of chicken noodle soup) and he was happily grabbed around the waist for a hug by one, and had his head pulled forwards for a motherly perfumed kiss by the other. His entire body protested at being squeezed and tugged, but he held his lips closed over the stabs of pain through sheer force will, and let the two of them pull him deeper into the loft. Let them smother him for a long appreciative moment. Then his mother stepped back to look him over. Uh oh.

"Dad!" Alexis spoke up from around his midriff, her voice blurry but still decipherable. "I'm still mad at you for sneaking off from the hospital, but I am so glad you're home."

"Me too pumpkin." He said honestly, kissing the top of her head, his arm snaking around her to pull her tighter against him. "And I'm sorry about the sneaking. Won't happen again."

"Better not." Alexis retorted without any heat in her words. She didn't let go. 

Rick looked over her heard at his mother as she continued to critically, and unsubtly, evaluate the state of him. He decided to get in first. "Are you all right? Eduardo told me the press were waiting for you in front of the building when you got home."

"Oh, please." His mother waved away his worry with a swat of her hand. "I've had more enthusiastic autograph hunters waiting for me outside my dressing room for my last off off off Broadway production. And Alexis handled them like a true chip off the not-so-old block."

Rick pursed his lips, not entirely convinced. And not happy at what his daughter had had to face.

"Really Dad." He looked down to see his daughter looking up at him with those big beautiful eyes that got him every time. "It was fine. We're ok."  
"But you on the other hand," his mother went on. "You look ready to drop. Alexis has been cooking up a storm in the kitchen and it smells heavenly, but she won't let me taste a drop. It's all for you Richard and you look like you need it. Then, oh dear," she wrinkled her nose " a shower is definitely on the cards. And then straight to bed with you. Doctor's orders. And better than that: mother's orders."  
"And daughter's orders."  
"Yes mother. Yes daughter of mine." He said with a quick grin. He knew when to obey. And when he could get away with openly enjoying a bit of TLC.

"And we got the meds from the hospital Dad." Alexis went on, finally pulling back from her monster hug and sliding around and under one of his arms. She tucked herself there like she meant to stay. Her arm was a warm pressure against his back. "The doctor said you needed to have them with something to eat. So I made chicken noodle soup."

"With extra noodles?"

"With extra extra noodles. There are so many noodles its sort of not a soup anymore. More like: Chicken noodles with suggestion of soup."

"My favourite kind!" His grin broadened until his face ached, and he gave Alexis a grateful squeeze of his arm. It was good to be home.

"Ah yes." His mother nodded. "The medication. It's in my purse. Oh Katherine!" His mother had evidently spotted Beckett. She stopped, then disappeared behind him. "Oh my dear, thank you so much for delivering my wayward son back home."

Rick turned around in time to catch sight of his mother throwing her arms around Beckett, and seeing Beckett do her head ducking again, a soft flush colouring her cheeks. Adorable. 

"It was no bother Martha. I had some time." 

"Nonsense! I am sure that the press didn't make things very easy for you." Martha drew back from the hug. "I know what they can be like once a story like this breaks. It can be like wading through a pack of hungry dogs." Rick winced as he watched Beckett squirm under the full beam of his mother's affection and appreciation. Though his mother didn't see it, it was there in the subtleties of expression that Rick had had months to study. And he had cracked some of the Enigma Code that was Detective Beckett, at least enough to know that it was time to step in.

"Detective Beckett is a pro mother." He interjected. "She can handle herself around the press."

"Richard! A little gratitude."

"No, he's right, it was fine." Beckett said, taking the opportunity thrown to her to gather herself and gracefully deflect the conversation to the side. She flashed him a look threaded through with relief and a thank you. "We deal with the press, with crowds, all the time. I've seen it much worse."  
"Well," his mother spoke, accepting it for what it was. "We are grateful anyway. Thank you."

"Thank you!" Alexis chirped from his side.

"You're both welcome." Beckett said, to both his mother and daughter. A small, but genuine and warm smile touched her lips. "And Eduardo was magnificent. I had no idea there was a third entrance into this building."

"Ah Eduardo!" Martha nodded. "He is amazing, isn't he. There is nothing he doesn't know about this building. Nothing he wouldn't do for the people who live in it. I will have to have a word with him again tonight. And I hope you will stay for some soup Katherine. It's the least we can do before you head out into the fray once more." 

"Ah, thank you, Martha. I would love to, but I have to be back at the precinct in about 20 minutes."

"Carmichael?" Rick asked.

"He's lawyered up." She nodded. "Some big shot defence attorney that costs more than my annual salary. Looks like you were right Castle."

"Glad to be able to help out." He held her gaze, smiled into it and felt the warmth coming back his way. They were going to be ok. It was going to be ok -  
"Well, then you have to take some soup with you!" His mother had a one track mind!

And Operation Feed Beckett went into full swing and neither he nor the intended target were going to get a say in how his mother expressed her gratitude anymore. Not for another second. It was going to be soup. And soup it was. Within a minute Beckett was at their front door cradling a large red thermos of Alexis' noodles with soup creation, making her goodbyes, and he was being dragged to the dining table by his daughter. He had time to raise a hand to his ear, thumb and little finger extended: call me! to Beckett (much to her amusement) before Operation Now Feed Richard, took over and he succumbed to delicious homemade soup and the attentions of his two favourite redheads. 

A short time later, muzzy and floaty with pain meds and lying in his bed under the watchful eye of Linus, he thumbed his cell to life and found Beckett's details. He started texting.

R: How's case going? That lawyer worth the money?

B: Stop asking about case. Why aren't you asleep?

R: Will be soon. Drugs good. Wanted to know about case? About you? You k?

B: Everything is fine. I will talk to you through it tomorrow. Go to sleep.

R: Promise? ?? ? fg

B: Yes.

R: Siure? Sory Speeling no good. Drugs.

B: Sure. Sleep. You. Now.

R: yo[re pushy parner. &^fj f  
B: Yep. I have to go. In for round two. Thank your mother and Alexis for the soup tomorrow.

R: Tom r? do now

B: No. Go to sleep. Soup compliments can wait.

R: 

B: Castle?

R:

B: Night Castle. 

End of Chapter 11

Next chapter to appear much more quickly than this one I hope!


	12. Chapter 12

Kate Beckett sat at her desk across from the suited stranger occupying Castle's chair and tried not to let her gaze slip into a glare of frustration. It wasn’t even 48 hours (has it really been that short a time since everything was turned on its head? Has it really been that long?) since Castle had been in that same chair; sitting there with her so late at night it was probably morning, throwing around theories about Baxter and the missing murder weapon with his eyes as blood shot as hers felt. It was less than two days since he brought them dinner right at her desk so that they could keep attacking the frustrating wall they were striking against. And god, it had been frustrating. Baxter was going to get away with murder and they had nothing sufficient to tie it to him without the murder weapon. They needed that gun. Then Castle had abruptly disappeared and reappeared a few minutes later with two cartons of something that smelled so divine that her stomach growled the moment she detected it (much to Castle's amusement). How long had it been since she had eaten? She realised she had no idea. 

*Past*  
"Nu-ren nan-ren ju-chan." Castle had pronounced (or at least that was what it sounded like) as he whirled the containers onto her desk and slid back onto his chair. It still threw her that he spoke Chinese. And that he was so casually, unpretentiously accomplished at it. It must have taken him years to cultivate both the grammar and the accent, and that sort of serious dedication just jarred with the flighty overly privileged shallow minor celebrity that threw her cheesy pick up lines at every opportunity. But then that wasn't really new. Like his unexpectedly keen investigative mind, it was yet another clue that there was more to Rick Castle than would be suggested from that playboy front. She shouldn't be intrigued by that mystery, but she was. Though she wasn't about to let him know he had peaked her interest. There wasn't enough Kevlar in the building to protect her from what that knowledge would do to his ego. 

"Castle, what are you doing?" She had snapped. They had so far to go with this case in such a small window of time that any interruption was just pushing her buttons. 

"Having dinner."

"It's," she checked her watch. "1am!"

"A fact that I am painfully aware of Detective. Now this," he tapped the cartons, ignoring her impatience, "is the real deal. It's from that new place a few blocks down. The menu is one hundred percent nouveau Shanghai. The chef just got off the proverbial boat last month. So it's the real thing. I've been wanting to try it out all since they opened. Everyone is raving about what they can do with chillies and hot peppers. Here!" He handed her a pair of wooden chop sticks, and then parted his own with a snap and rubbed them together, smoothing down imaginary splinters. She looked down at her own chopsticks and frowned. These were no cheap mass produced bamboo or plastic implements. She wasn't sure exactly what they were made of, but they were sleek and dark and smooth and unquestionably expensive. 

"Wait, isn't that the new 5-star restaurant with the entrées that cost more than that shirt you're wearing?" 

"Yeah!" He said with no small measure of glee. A grin appeared that just about split his face open. "Isn't it great!" 

"They don't' do take out." 

He just grinned wider, waggled his eyebrows, and dug out a generous portion of noodles and meat. Oh my god, he was incorrigible. How could he already have a guy at a place that had just opened? And this was expensive. Really expensive. She couldn't accept this. She shouldn't accept this. But then her stomach growled again.   
"You're stalling." Castle suddenly spoke.

"What?" She looked up and saw that Castle had stopped grinning and was looking at her over the mountain of noodles pinched between his very expensive chopsticks. His eyes were narrowed, regarding her with some critical measure.

" It's the chillies isn't it? It's ok, some people can't handle the real thing. I should have asked for the wàiguórén menu." 

"Oh this foreigner," she watched his eyes widen with appreciation at her understanding, "can handle chillies Castle. But I notice you aren't eating either."   
"Its impolite to start before everyone else, Beckett."

"Really." She retorted, and opened her carton. Oh my god. The aroma was nothing short of heavenly. The vegetables tossed in with the pork and noodles were actually recognisable, not those translucent congealed mystery ingredients she was used to from her usual take out spots. And wow, he hadn't been lying about the chillies. But no, it was undeniably expensive, and she shouldn't even be considering taking this from him. He had to know she couldn't replay like for like. A fragrant waft of incredible spices drifted up from the open contained. Her mouth watered. Still, she didn't think he was the type who would use a meal to try to barter for something else. She didn't know him that well, but her instinct was that he didn't buy women dinners as a down payment. So - 

"All right Castle, you're on."

"You won't do it."

"Oh, I'll do it. It's you I'm worried about."

"Oh, don't worry about me Detective, I'll front up."

"Prove it."

"Together."

"On three."

"THREE!"

They ate. He shoved the first mouthful in and choked it down, face turning beet red. She followed suit. Oh god, that's hot. She felt sweat prickle her skin. But then, impossibly, he went for another mouthful. So she had to. And somewhere through the incredibly delicious yet agonizing noodle feast Castle produced two massive chocolate shakes to cool the burn. It wasn't until she was draining the last of dregs of delicious chocolate cream, and feeling a new buzz of energy spreading through her body, that she realised she had been duped into turning her back on her murder board for the last fifteen minutes. Damn.

"That was sneaky, Castle." 

"I think the word you are looking for is 'smooth' Detective. And yes it was." He smirked. "And you're welcome."

*present*  
They worked for another hour and came up with nothing, but when they finally clocked out of the building she rode the streets home with a smile.  
And now someone else was in Castle's chair, and it felt like a violation. Which was ridiculous: it was just a chair. Still, she couldn’t help noticing that the man sitting there now did not fill out the space properly. He was too dour, too still, too neatly framed within the chair's fixed dimensions. He didn't lean back until the metal work squealed, or sprawl beyond the arm rests. He didn’t fiddle with the things on her desk. He didn't stray from the company line. Instead, he just sat there, slim and neat, his file folder open in his lap, pen tapping the page as he worked through the bold typeface of demands printed on the page clipped inside. She gripped down on her pen and felt the plastic creak. 

"-need to show me where the relevant policy is located on the station intranet-" 

Captain Montgomery had warned her that they were going to be audited, and it wasn't like it was a new experience. Auditing of all their practices and procedures was a regular occurrence and she appreciated the reasons for it, even if they were about as comfortable as a trip to the dentist. But this one? Maybe it was the fact that they had just stumbled across something huge and tangled with Carmichael and Baxter that she was desperate to get back to? Maybe it was that since returning Castle to his apartment yesterday she had had no time to decompress, to stop and breathe, for fear of losing momentum and giving their suspects too much time to regroup and reform their lines? Maybe it was because her best efforts with Castle's coffee machine in the break room had merely produced a cup of acid? Maybe it was the pestering paparazzi phone calls that kept on making it through the switch, looking for information on Castle and the incident that had revealed his hearing loss? Or maybe, it was the intrusive political stench to this particular audit? The fact that she had an ongoing investigation needing her swift attention and yet here she was being audited for something that could wait until Castle was closer to returning to the 12th was just- 

Or maybe it was just how this stranger was sitting in Castle's chair.

"-And then, the procedure for -"

Oh my god.

"You know what?" She interrupted the man's droning shopping list of demands, rising to her feet. "Why don't we take a break for a moment? I need coffee. And I am sure you could do with-"

"You have a coffee." The man pointed at her cup and looked at her blandly. "And no, I don't. We should continue. There is a great deal to get through to day and I have a meeting at 5pm with the Mayor for my preliminary audit report."

"Five minutes." She told the man and pointedly ignored his terse sigh as she headed for the break room with her cup of battery acid.

The break room was mercifully empty and Kate walked to the sink to dispose of the tepid coffee. As she watched the dark liquid snake down the drain, she took a moment to try to regroup. There was no getting out of this audit, but she was going to have to do something to keep the Carmichael investigation moving forwards or risk having the man slip away from them. And he was capable of doing just that, despite an official direction that he keep himself available and within the city limits. He was a connected man. That much was clear. And the ludicrously expensive lawyer he had brought into Interview was worth every penny he was paying her and then some. She had managed to get him out in record time, and had left no leverage to compel him to stay closer than the city limits.

So they needed to make their own connections. They needed to do it fast. Ryan and Espo were working Baxter over, but it wasn't enough. She bit down on her lip. She hadn't heard from Castle since his sleepy, garbled texts the day before, and he likely had his hands full handling the fallout from yesterday's shocking revelations but she did tell him she would take him through the case, and he did have to file his own report on the raid, so- She looked out at the auditor, sitting there in Castle's chair, flipping through his manila folder. Her eyes narrowed. She pulled out her cell.

"- Hello?" It was Alexis who answered after a handful of rings, sounding hesitant and very very young. Kate frowned.

"Alexis. It’s Kate."

"Oh!" There was relief in the young girl's voice. "Detective Beckett - I mean, Kate. Hello." 

"Is everything ok?"

"Um, yeah." She said after a beat. And when she spoke again she sounded distracted. "It's um, it's ok. Well, as ok as it can be. You know. "

"I do. It will get better. The press will lose interest in time." Kate tried to reassure the teen, but she could plainly here that something was going on over at the loft. Whatever it was though, Alexis didn’t seem to want to address it directly. Which was enough of a sign for Kate to persist, but gently: "How are you holding up?" 

"Fine. I'm fine. I'm taking a few days off school. Studying at home. Dad thought it would be a good idea -" She stopped speaking again, and this time Beckett thought she could hear something in the background. Raised voices maybe?

"Alexis? Are you sure everything is ok?"

"Um-" Ok, something was definitely going on. Yes, that was unquestionably voices in the background. And raised voices. She didn't need to be a cop to recognize the faint sounds of a domestic. 

"Can I talk to your Dad please?"

"Um.."

"Alexis, what's going on? Is your grandmother there?"

"No, she's out right now. She had a doctor's appointment and Dad insisted she keep it. Eduardo let her out the back way." There was a pause on the line, a rustling that sounded like the phone was being pressed against cloth as someone walked. When Alexis spoke again it was in a half whisper. "It's been pretty rough. Have you seen the press?"

"No, I haven't." Kate said and realised, for the first time, just how intensely she had been focussing on the Carmichael Baxter case and the internal demands of paperwork and the audit that was the legacy of yesterday's raid. Somehow she had managed to entirely miss the entire media fall out without even consciously trying to.

"Dad's so tired. He's been doing damage control all day and he won't let me help. And now Gina's here. She wants him to do a family piece for Entertainment!, with Grams and I. She has the network lined up, the whole deal. And Dad- He's really- They're arguing." And the way the teen whispered the word was like it was a foreign language, something so alien and unfathomable that she didn't know what to do with it. It wasn’t hard to imagine that angry raised voices were not a common occurrence within the Castle home. If he was even half the negotiator, the people pleaser, the considered conciliator, at home that he was at the Precinct then she could well understand how the young girl was finding her father fighting with someone so destabilising and shocking. Kate was finding it hard to get her own mind around the image of Castle pushed so far from himself that he was actually in a verbal fight. But at least Alexis had told her and she had that to work with.

“Where are they now?”

“They’re in Dad’s office. He shut the door, but I can still hear them.” Her voice was sounding steadier, as if confiding in another adult was suddenly going to make things better. If only life was that simple, Kate thought. 

“When is your grandmother due back?”

“In about an hour I think.”

"Can you call her?"

"I tried but she isn't picking up."

“OK." There were so many cell phone dead spots around the city, it wasn't too unusual to have trouble connecting, and in a doctor's office she may very well have had to turn her cell off. "How about your take your books upstairs until then. And take the phone too. Do you have a pen? I’ll give you my direct line.”  
“Thank you Kate.” Alexis breathed down the line and took down the number.

“Don’t worry too much ok.” Kate went on, searching for words that didn't sound like platitudes. It was hard to do when she was talking to a teenager as switched on as Alexis was. “Your Dad and Gina are just working through how to deal with this situation, and at times they are going to clash about the best way to handle it. Adults do that sometimes. Now, your grandmother will be back in no time, but until then if you are worried you call me ok?”

“I guess. It’s just, this isn’t Dad. He doesn’t- Even when he and Gina were breaking up they didn’t fight. Not like this. And- he’s - he’s really mad. Can- can you come over?" Kate heard her take a deep breath and took a moment to swallow down her own reaction. She couldn’t imagine Castle that angry. There was no way she could let this lie. 

“ I have something I have to tie up here, but - give me thirty minutes?"

“Thank you.” 

“Now, take your books and go upstairs for me ‘k.”

“OK.”

Alexis hung up and Kate took a breath, before marching back out into the bullpen to deliver the bad news to the interloper still sitting in Castle's chair: his report to the mayor was going to be late. 

 

Next chapter coming soon.


	13. NOTE!

Its getting a bit tricky posting my fic in more than one place, and I can't get the text how I like it here, so I hope you will join me at the other location for this fic where I will post the remaining chapters:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11523942/1/Revelations-prompt-fill 

Thanks!


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